


The Mirror's Edge

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mage!Cas, Magic!AU, Michael!Dean, Multi, Sam!Lucifer, cas and jimmy aren't related, fantasy!au, mage!michael, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: Dean’s life is so normal it’s almot boring. He works, he goes to school, and he LARPs on the weekends with Sam, Charlie, and his best friend/roommate Jimmy. Boring maybe, but good.… Until he starts popping into a strange new world. A world where magic is real, where there’s a mysterious, brooding mage trying desperately to stop an apocalypse. A mage that looks just like Jimmy.Now Dean’s life is so not boring, he kinda misses the days when it was.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for this year's DCJBB... and it's super late. I've had a uhm... busy year, let's just call it, and my muse decided to abandon me during THE LAST FRIGGIN CHAPTER OF THIS STORY >.< but I powered through and got it done, because dammit I want you guys to see the awesome art my artist [@casadefreewill](http://casadefreewill.tumblr.com) did for this fic. So please check out the [art post](http://casadefreewill.tumblr.com/post/174225514005/the-mirrors-edge-written-for-dcjbigbang-author) and leave some love :)
> 
> The whole point of this fic was basically to add to the non-twin fics for DCJ. I also wanted to play around with Michael!Dean... and uh... well, let's just say all of this was planned *before* Season 13 and Season 14 did what they did with Michael lol

****The wards in the keep take Castiel and his underlings hours to crack. For each spell they unweave, there is another more potent one underneath. It seems endless, but Castiel is stubborn; he will not give up.

_You cannot escape me so easily, Michael._

With explosive force, the heavy doors burst inwards. Castiel’s marching inside before the dust has settled, the heavy footsteps of his bannermen behind him. They fan out in all directions, weapons and wands at the ready.

Castiel has no illusions that they’ll actually find Michael or anyone else, for that matter; he knows damn well Michael’s long gone and has been from the very moment he got wind of Castiel’s approach. Even so, there could be any number of traps lurking in the depths of the stronghold; caution is needed.

It’s of no real consequence to Castiel how many traps there might be. He knows Michael well enough to be sure the worst of it’s behind them. The other mage was always too confident for his own good, expending most of his efforts on keeping people _out_ and not at all concerned once someone actually found their way inside. To him it would be unfathomable that an intruder would actually get this far.

 _And that will be your undoing,_ Castiel thinks to himself.

Whether he means Michael’s over confidence or Castiel’s intimate knowledge of the other man is unclear.

 _Hopefully both. I_ **_cannot_ ** _let Michael win, whatever he’s up to._

He makes his way straight to Michael’s study. He’s reminded of an earlier time, a day when he and Michael stormed a different keep side by side. It’d been a victory, one all the sweeter for having been shared with his oldest friend and ally. Back then, it would have been inconceivable that Michael would betray him, would betray the entire Order.

_Yet here I am._

The floor just inside the study lights up as Castiel crosses the threshold, a sigil painted in yellow, but it flickers and immediately dims before disappearing entirely. It recognizes Castiel as a friend, and isn’t that the biggest joke of them all; Michael had _forgotten_ to arm his spells against him.

The ancient oak desk is littered with papers and books, though this is but a fraction of what Michael would have had. Castiel had hoped to be quick enough to catch Michael by surprise, but of course word had gotten out. Still, he was satisfied that Michael had left in such haste that he’d not been able to take everything with him or even burn what he had not time to pack.

Most of it’s junk. Spells that he knows damn well Michael’s long ago mastered or legends that they both learned as boys in school. A distraction from the truth, Castiel casts them aside and continues searching.

When he sees it, at first he thinks he’s imagining it. The faded parchment is old and rather dull looking. There are a few runes and sigils, but mostly it’s writing in a messy script. An old alchemist’s potion, perhaps, or a prototype for a minor spell. But Castiel recognizes that handwriting and knows nothing good can be hidden in these pages.

These papers, they were Lucifer’s. And now Michael has read through them, added his own notes in the margins.

Apparently Michael plans on continuing his brother’s work, whatever it was.

“Oh Michael,” Castiel says with a sigh. After all the time they’d spent _stopping_ Lucifer, only for Michael to carry it on… It makes the betrayal even worse, and disappointment floods him. It’s only in this moment that he realizes he’d still held out hope. Hope that he was mistaken about Michael, that the rumors of dark magic were completely unfounded.

A vision appears before him, one he’d dreamt of many times over the past few months: him and Michael facing off for a final duel, casting spells at each other and swinging their swords with but one intent. The dream never gets to that inevitable conclusion, with one gloating over the other’s dead body.

 _I wouldn’t gloat,_ Castiel thinks. _I’d still mourn his death. I’ve known him too long, counted him as a friend for as long as I remember, I don’t think I’d have room in me for anything other than sorrow._

The vision fades and Castiel finally acknowledges it for what it is. A premonition, a fate soon coming to pass.

He curses under his breath. _Damn Michael. Damn him._

A brief glance at the parchment tells him that most of the notes are encrypted; it’ll take time to decipher them, but Castiel is determined. This isn’t a battle he can afford to lose. Lucifer had been bad enough, but at least then he’d had a partner in all this. Now he’s on his own, no powerful mage to stand as his ally against the vast blackness stretching before them.

He doesn’t let the worry sink in. Instead he calls to his men and tells them to take everything. He’ll sort through it all at his own home, peruse each and every word until he knows exactly what Michael’s up to. It’s a huge undertaking, but he fears he’s forced Michael’s hand and caused him to speed up his plans. He has no time to lose.

_I suppose I had best get to work then._

 


	2. Chapter 1

****“I’m making spaghetti for dinner.”

Dean blinks as he goes through the mental gymnastics necessary to park his car while trying to decode what the hell Jimmy’s talking about.

“Huh?”

“Spaghetti. Dinner. You want some?”

“Sure,” he says automatically. He straightens out the Impala in the spot before cutting the engine, then gives Jimmy’s question some thought. “Wait, shit, can’t. I’m closing tonight. I won’t be back until two. Maybe one if it’s slow.”

It’s that transitional phase between winter and spring where it’s warmer than it’s been but not quite so warm that Dean wants to leave his jacket in the car. Right now the temperature’s fine, but in a few hours… He decides to keep it, just in case.

“So no spaghetti? I’m making meatballs. C’mon, man. _Meatballs._ ”

Dean bites back a smile as he gets out of the car. A gust of cool wind makes him all the more thankful he decided on the jacket. “Nope. Sorry, dude.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Jimmy whines, though he doesn’t sound surprised. “Don't stay out too late, you don't get enough sleep as is. Last thing I wanna hear is that you were snoring in your seminar again.”

Dean scoffs and brushes off Jimmy's concern. "Thanks, _Mom_. And I don’t snore."

"I can't tell if that's really kinky or really childish." He can practically hear Jimmy's smile over the phone as he continues his teasing. “And you _definitely_ snore. Ask Sam.”

“Yeah, like you two wouldn’t lie about that shit. Nice try.” Dean stops right outside the doorway to the Roadhouse. “Look, I gotta go. Save me a meatball?”

“No promises. Seriously, don’t stay out too late if you can help it. I know you pride yourself on your four hours or whatever, but you gotta be tired of sneaking naps between classes. Do yourself a favor and be normal for once.”

“Uh huh. Night, Jimmy.”

“Night.”

Hanging up and pocketing his phone, Dean heads inside. He doesn't know what Jimmy’s talking about. Dean’s life _is_ normal. Boring, but normal.

He’s got work at the shop during the day, grad school in the evenings as he tries to become an architect, then more work at the bar until closing. There’s his awesome roommate (aka his best friend in the world, Jimmy Novak) in their adequately sized but amazingly decorated apartment (movie posters and action figures galore). And then there’s LARPing every other weekend with Charlie and Sam.

Other than the few things that are uniquely _him_ , his life really could be swapped out for anyone else’s. Switch out LARPing with a sports team, or working as a mechanic with some retail job, and his degree with any other, and his life could belong to a million other people. Dean’s fully aware of this, and he holds on to his little personality quirks and hobbies greedily. They’re the only thing that sets him off from everyone else, and though he’ll deny it, he _wants_ to be unique.

 _“You_ **_are_ ** _unique,”_ Jimmy always tells him. _“You know anyone else who can eat two whole pies in one sitting? Or who else can name every incarnation of the Chevy Impala by year and with all their features? C’mon, don’t sell yourself short.”_

Dean smiles now, remembering his friend’s enthusiasm. He appreciates that Jimmy tries, but “pie eating” and “obsessive about cars” aren’t the types of things he’s looking to add to his resume. They’re personality quirks, sure, but they’re not _exciting_.

 _You’re ridiculous,_ he scoffs at himself. _You got a good life, you’re happy, stop whining that you’re not also a rockstar or Nobel prize winner._

Not that he actually wanted to _be_ a rockstar or a nobel prize winner, per se. But he wanted to be _something_.

Ellen nods at him in greeting, too busy with a table to do more. He gives a brief wave before logging in and setting to work behind the bar. Normally he can shake off his worries and lose himself in the rhythm of pouring beers and mixing drinks. It only half works tonight; the distraction’s there, but his head is so full that he’s getting behind instead of disappearing in the familiar work.

“You look like shit,” Jo teases. “Can’t even make a decent vodka tonic, and that’s like the easiest of the drinks to make.”

Dean flips her off, even though he knows she isn’t wrong. “Lemme work, Harvelle.”

He goes through the motions for another hour until there’s a lull in the crowd. Figuring Jo can handle the bar on her own for a few minutes and desperately needing a moment to clear his head, he disappears to the bathroom. Plays around on his phone as a distraction.

Ask Charlie about the next game night, check.

Tell Sam he’s a dingus and to stop studying so much, check.

Send stupid meme to Jimmy, check.

Double check his schedule for tomorrow, check.

He doesn’t feel a whole lot better, but it helps.

Still feeling a bit off, Dean leans over the sink and splashes water on his face. Rinses a layer of sweat off and then brings his hands up a few more times, just in case. He doubts anyone can _see_ just how _blah_ he finds this evening his whole life but he doesn’t want pitying looks or well intentioned sympathy. He wants to get through the night, the next few years and more firmly into adulthood. Maybe if he’s not worrying about student loans and rent and fucking final exams, he can figure out the missing piece of his life that keeps haunting him.

Turning off the water, Dean flashes a glance at the mirror to make sure he looks halfway decent. Normally, he doesn’t let his eyes linger and he most certainly doesn’t look at his reflection for more than a few seconds at a time if he can help it.

He’s got a thing about mirrors.

It’s not a self esteem thing, despite what Sam thinks. Dean’s aware that he’s good looking. He’s gotten enough free drinks and phone numbers over the years—often without even trying—to know that people think he’s good looking. He doesn’t need a mirror to tell him what the rest of the world already does.

He just… doesn’t like his reflection.

A few times in his past, it’d been easy to explain away the impulse. He’s hated himself plenty of times to the point where he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror. All those fights with dad, and then when John Winchester died in that car accident without a chance to patch things up… Yeah, Dean had well and truly hated himself then.

But that was years ago, and though the memory still leaves a bitter sting, the self recrimination has long since faded. There’s the rare moment here and there where nobody could possibly hate Dean Winchester more than Dean himself does, but they’re fleeting.

No, there was something else entirely behind Dean’s mirror phobia.

It’s weird and stupid and he doesn’t like to talk about it, but… but sometimes, when he stares too long at his reflection, into green eyes speckled with gold, sometimes…

Sometimes he felt like it was someone else was looking back at him.

“No one else there,” he whispers to himself now, a reminder so that he can actually find the courage to _look_. His eyes flit up to check his hair. Dart down to follow the planes of his face. So far so good. He squeezes his eyes shut and forces a few steady breaths before he decides to chance it. He opens them and meets his own gaze.

Nothing. Just… just himself, staring back. Maybe a few crinkles at the edges, more than there were the last time he really allowed himself to look, but that’s all.

“I’m an idiot,” he chuckles under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair and lets himself laugh a bit more. What the hell had he been expecting, anyway? What is he _ever_ expecting?

He turns his back to the mirror and dries his hands.

Normally he wouldn’t tempt fate. He hadn’t creeped himself out or seen anything weird, so he should count that as a win and _leave_. But there’s a moment as he hovers by the door, a moment when the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and he gets the distinct feeling that he’s being watched.

 _Don’t turn around don’t turn around do_ **_not_ ** _fucking turn around—_

Against his own better judgement (and maybe to prove a point that there’s _nothing_ to worry about), Dean does just that. He glances over his shoulder, looks himself square in the eye…

A chill passes through him, that _not right_ feeling more distinct than it’s ever been. And those eyes, they’re definitely not _his_.

Suppressing a shudder, Dean practically throws himself back out into the restaurant and runs to the bar.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, boy,” Ellen teases when he practically barricades himself behind the bar and hides behind the dirty glasses.

Dean fakes a laugh. At this point, it’d probably creep him out less if it _had_ been a ghost. “Just what you need, a haunted bathroom.”

Ellen makes a clicking sound with her jaw, one she’s used to scold him many times but that now seems to be used to tease him more often than not. “If Casper’s willing to scrub toilets, I might have to hire him.”

This time Dean’s laugh isn’t as forced, and he relaxes minutely. “Next time I see a ghost, I’ll ask ‘em if they want a job.”

He goes back to wiping down glasses, but Ellen puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “You sure you alright?” she asks softly.

“I’m fine,” he says automatically. He’s perfectly aware how ridiculous it would sound if he actually said out loud anything that had been running through his head since the bathroom. Or earlier, really, but the mirror thing especially. Being crazy isn’t the way he wants to be unique. “Just tired.”

Her eyes softened. “That I can believe. Look, it’s dead in here. Why don’t you head home. Me and Jo can handle it from here.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“I know, but seeing as I’m the boss, I can. Get home and get yourself some sleep. Don’t make me call to check in on ‘ya, either.” She swats him on the shoulder with a bar towel and turns away, end of discussion.

He almost wants to stay for a beer, but he doesn’t. He knows better than to argue with Ellen (or to look a gift horse in the mouth), so instead he takes off his apron and starts gathering his things. “Yes, ma’am.”

The drive home is short but long enough that it reminds him how damn tired he is. The streets are mostly dead and offer no distraction as he takes the familiar route; the radio plays the same songs it always does, crackling occasionally with static. It’s not even one am when he gets back, but Dean’s dead on his feet when he manages to find a spot, a good three blocks from the apartment.

_Ugh, guess I’m gonna have to get up early just to get to my damn car before work. Great._

He double checks his phone just for something to do, and laughs when he sees a string of messages from Jimmy.

**jimjam: you really should be here eating some of this spaghetti. it’s really good for your meat-a-ballism**

**jimjam: where did the spaghetti go to dance? the MEAT BALL!!!!**

**jimjam: where do poor meatballs live? the spaGHETTO**

There are a few more equally terrible and very _very_ dirty puns that actually manage to make Dean blush. Then it’s a string of selfies Jimmy took while eating dinner, each picture prominently featuring a meatball.

_dean: you’re a fucking dork i can’t believe we’re friends_

_dean: hey ellen let me off early heat me up some food???_

Almost immediately, Dean gets a response and he smiles in relief; Jimmy’s still up.

**jimjam: *thumbs up***

Before he even reaches the end of the first block, Dean starts to feel dizzy. It’s not much, but then he staggers as dots appear in front of his eyes. He’s ready to dismiss it as a side effect of not eating enough and being dog tired, when a headache blooms unexpectedly behind his eyes.

It comes on with the force of a migraine, and he staggers a bit before reaching out to catch a himself on a nearby wall. His shoulder hits the brick hard, but Dean leans heavy into it to make sure he doesn’t topple over into the street. It gets worse and worse, like a vice tightening itself behind his eyes and paralyzing him in agony. He doesn’t cry out, or he thinks he doesn’t, simply stands there and endures it.

And then like that, the pain is gone. It takes him a second to catch up, to realize that he’s fine.

A shiver runs through him, a profound feeling of _wrongness_ , and he opens his eyes. He has every intention of sprinting back to the apartment. He’s tired, he’s freaked out, and he just wants to be back inside his room, in his own damn bed, forgetting this night ever happened.

Dean gets maybe ten feet before he realizes there’s something very, _very_ wrong.

“What the hell?” Dean spins around, taking in the gothic architecture that towers above him. He blinks and then blinks again, hoping his brain will stop fucking with him and take him back to Lawrence, not this crazy old-fashioned town he’s appeared in.

It looks (hell, it even _smells)_ like he’s been transported to Medieval London or something. There’s not a single street lamp or power line or anything even remotely modern anywhere. Even when Dean goes to the Renaissance Festival or LARPing, there’s _something_ , some little thing that doesn’t mesh and gives away the illusion. Nothing here is out of place, nothing except _him_.

“What the fuck?” he whispers to himself, scared to be too loud. What if he draws unwanted attention to himself? He’s time traveled, right? Clearly he’s time traveled and he’s in the fucking Middle Ages. They’ll take one look at his clothes and call him a witch or something, burn him at the stake or torture him or—

His vision blurs and then slowly the town around him melts back into Lawrence.

As soon as the last building morphs back into what it should be, as soon as the last hint of dung changes back into the dank smell of a nearby alley, Dean runs. He runs and runs and runs and doesn’t stop until he’s home.


	3. Chapter 2

**** “You get high or something?” Jimmy asks skeptically as he looks Dean over. “You know you shouldn’t do that shit when you’re alone, you get all paranoid.”

“What? Dude, no! I swear, I wasn’t high or drunk or— or hallucinating or anything! Seriously!”

But the more he thinks about it, the more ridiculous it sounds. That coupled with his freak out at the Roadhouse, and he wonders if maybe he didn’t see what he thought he saw.

“Sure, sure.” Jimmy pats his back and doesn’t even pretend he’s not patronizing Dean. “How ‘bout we get you into bed? Sounds like you need a good night’s sleep to shake this off.”

Dean doesn’t protest. He scowls at his microwaved leftovers but has to acknowledge, at least to himself, that he  _ is _ tired and sleep sounds like an amazing idea. Everything else can be figured out come morning.

When he wakes up, he feels better. So much better that he can laugh about how fucking crazy it all sounds. He’s sure Jimmy will bring it up, teasing him about how he’d rushed into the apartment babbling about “fucking Medieval times,” and really he  _ deserves _ the teasing. Dean was stressed out and got himself worked up, that’s all; Jimmy’s joking will be more than enough to remind him that there’s no way  _ any _ of that had been real. 

Even so, Dean doesn’t look in the mirror when he brushes his teeth before going to work.

It almost feels like his reflection’s laughing at him.

~ ~ ~

Everything’s fine for the next couple of days. Aside from a few sarcastic remarks from Jimmy about letting LARPing bleed into his daily life, Dean really does start to forget the whole thing. It was weird, there’s no point in denying that, but oh well. He views it like a night of blackout drinking: an embarrassing thing that happened that he’ll try to avoid in the future.

That probably should’ve clued him in to the inevitable. No matter how many times Dean gets that drunk and swears to never let it happen again, it does.

Almost a week later, Dean’s walking around the campus library and back to his car. He’d been studying for a big test with his usual study group, so the slight headache at the back of his head makes sense. 

But then a wave of nausea overcomes him, so strong and absolutely overpowering that he leans against a wall to try and ride it out. Only when his vision clears does his blood run ice cold and he swallows.

Dark spires rise above him, familiar but not nearly as imposing in the daylight as they’d been at night. The buildings around him look like homes, ancient in design but in such good condition that they’re certainly new, no more than a few decades old. The street before him’s empty, though there’s a cart with a horse (a fucking  _ horse! _ ) down at one end and the definite sound of people talking loudly at the other. 

Before Dean can decide what to do—Explore? Grab his phone and take a picture? Close his eyes and click his heels three times and hopes it gets him home?—he stumbles backwards. Apparently he hadn’t been leaning on a wall but a door, and as someone pulls it open, Dean loses his balance and falls right onto his ass.

“Ugh,” he grunts as he pushes himself back to his feet. “Warn a guy, would ya—”

The words are cut off as he’s slammed roughly against the door, the doorknob digging into his back and hands curling fiercely into the collar of his shirt. 

“Michael?” a deep voice asks before Dean’s eyes can even focus, the dim house a huge contrast from the sunlight street. There’s an edge to the name, something bordering on contemptuous.

He blinks a few more times, then at the man as he recognizes those startling blue eyes. “Jimmy? What… what are you  _ doing _ here?”

Jimmy’s eyes go wide before he narrows them and squints at Dean. His grip on Dean’s shirt tightens minutely as he searches Dean’s face for something. Dean wants to pull out of his grasp and demand what the fuck is going on, but he’s frozen in place by the severe look.

He doesn’t know why he thinks it, but he has the sudden quiet thought that  _ this isn’t Jimmy _ .

As if echoing his thoughts, the man whispers, “Not Michael.” Then he takes a half step back, hands leaving Dean’s shirt but finding their way to his shoulders instead. “Who are you?” he demands loudly. “Where are you from? What’s the meaning of this intrusion?”

“Intrusion? Buddy,  _ you _ opened the door.”

Dean has just enough time to see the man’s surprised confusion before the world blinks out of existence, only to reassemble itself as the path by the campus library. He stays where he is and leans against the brick wall of some maintenance building. He struggles to catch his breath and calm his heart.

And despite everything, he notices that he can still feel the warmth of Not Jimmy’s hands on his shoulders.

~ ~ ~

“So if I get this straight,” Jimmy says slowly. “You had another time traveling episode, but this time you met a guy who looks just like me, but thought you were someone else. Is that about right?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Jimmy narrows his eyes at Dean, an uncanny duplicate of how Not Jimmy had looked at him. “You sure you’re not fucking with me?”

“I’m not.” Dean sighs with exasperation. “I’m telling you, some weird shit is going down.”

“Uh huh. I don’t know about that.”

“ _ What _ ?” Dean shouts incredulously.

Jimmy shrugs. “I dunno, it just sounds like you’re having some weird dreams. I mean it  _ sounds _ like a dream, doesn’t it? If someone described this to you, you’d definitely think it was a dream.”

“I get that but it  _ wasn’t _ . It was real! It was so friggin’ vivid. I swear, I could  _ feel _ his breath on me.” Dean shivers as he remembers the faint musky smell that had accompanied it. 

“Dream’s feel real when you’re in them,” Jimmy points out.

“And I’m  _ telling you _ , it felt real  _ after _ .”

“Sure it did.” Jimmy grabs the bag of chips out of Dean’s hand and holds it out of reach when Dean tries to yank it back “Maybe you should lay off on the snacks, though. Clearly you’re eating something that’s messing with your head.”

“... You’re just trying to get all the chips to yourself.”

Jimmy puts a chip in his mouth and loudly eats it. “Maybe,” he says with a wide smile.

~ ~ ~

_ Charlie: dude!!!! way to snub me _

**Dean: ???**

_ Charlie: today! i saw you downtown and you totally ignored me wtf man i thought we were buds _

_ Charlie: (i’m only sort of kidding… like for real what’s up are you okay?) _

**Dean: i wasnt downtown today**

_ Charlie: no you totally were _

_ Charlie: i saw you _

**Dean: when?**

_ Charlie: story’s changing already huh :P _

_ Charlie: around four? i think? _

_ Charlie: by the starbucks _

_ Charlie: i called your name and you totally looked my way but didn’t wave back _

**Dean: swear it wasnt me**

**Dean: i have study group at four**

**Dean: ask garth**

_ Charlie: playing the garth card really? _

_ Charlie: but fine i believe you _

_ Charlie: guess you’ve got a doppelganger running around _

Dean stares at the text messages, not sure what to make of it. All he knows is that he’s got a bad feeling about the whole thing.

~ ~ ~

This time when Dean feels pinpricks of pain behind his eyes and a vague sense of nausea, he’s prepared. He hopes he’s wrong, hopes for a migraine, but when he opens his eyes, he’s not surprised to see he’s not where he should be.

Gone are the familiar beige walls of his bedroom, the warm inviting covers pulled back for him to go to bed, and instead he’s inside an old house with wood detailing everywhere. He starts to turn uneasily and a floorboard creaks beneath his feet.

“ _ You _ .”

Dean spins around to the open doorway behind him and the source of the deep voice. In the middle of a study stood Jimmy, or rather the Jimmy imposter he’d seen a few days ago. They eyed each other warily, though it wasn’t nearly as tense as it’d been the last time. 

“May as well come in,” Not Jimmy says dryly and walks away further into his study, clearly expecting Dean to follow. 

“Uhh…” Dean says dumbly. He was painfully aware that he was only in his boxers and a thin t-shirt, whereas Not Jimmy was fully dressed. In  _ armor _ , of all things, which made Dean’s sleepwear feel even more ridiculous. Though he supposes the only alternative is to refuse him and stay stubbornly in the hallway. At least if he goes into the room, he could sit down and feel a little less exposed.

With a shrug, he passes the threshold.

The study is the type he’s only ever seen in movies. Period pieces about the Civil War or Victorian England. Sure as fuck not the type you’d stumble into in Lawrence, Kansas of all places. 

_ Who said anything about Lawrence? You saw outside the last time you were here. Didn’t look  _ **_anything_ ** _ like Lawrence at all…  _

“Sit,” the man orders and again Dean’s overcome once more with how  _ not _ Jimmy he is. Dean does as he’s told, not really looking to test how far the limits of this little fantasy world go; the last thing he wants is for things to get violent.

The man pours himself a brandy before giving Dean a considering look and pouring him a glass as well. Dean gratefully downs half of it, almost choking on how  _ real _ the sensation is. It burns his throat, he can taste it, his fucking  _ lips _ are wet. As much as Jimmy insists that these are dreams, Dean’s less convinced than ever.

“Who are you?” the man says as he sits across from Dean. His armor glints in the candle light and it takes a second for Dean to process the question and realize  _ oh duh, he wants me to answer it _ .

“Dean. Dean Winchester.”

The man nods, as if this is the answer he expected. He pulls a piece of parchment ( _ parchment! _ ) forward and writes on it with a fountain pen. Dean straightens up to watch, but all he sees is his own name written in the man’s elegant script. 

“And where are you from, Dean Winchester?”

“Lawrence.”

The man pauses. “Lawrence?”

“Yeah. Lawrence, Kansas. You heard of it?” Dean asks meekly. If his time travel theory’s right, then no, the guy probably hasn’t.

“I have not.” The man writes it down. “How did you get in my home—?”

“What’s  _ your _ name?” Dean interrupts. “Where are  _ you _ from? Where  _ are _ we?”

“I’ll be asking the questions here,” he says sharply. “How did you—?”

“You can ask questions, but unless you  _ answer _ some of mine, I don’t see why I should do the same for you.” Dean leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest. He does his best to ignore that he probably looks ridiculous. At least they’re plaid boxers and not his Batman ones.  _ That _ would’ve been a million times worse.

_ Does this guy even know who Batman is? _

Their staring match doesn’t last long. The man sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s fair. My name is Castiel Milton. I’m from the Southern Isles, though obviously I live on the Continent now and have for some time.”

“And this is your house.”

“One of them, yes.”

“One of—” Dean huffs a laugh. “You’re rich?”

Castiel shrugs. “I suppose. Now, how did you get in my house?”

“Beats me. I get a headache and feel like puking my guts out. My vision goes all fuzzy and when it’s back, POOF!” Dean snaps his fingers. “I’m somewhere else.”

Castiel’s back to scribbling notes. “How many times has this happened? For how long? Are you always in the same place when it happens?”

Dean grudgingly answers the questions, barely asking any of his own. He wants to know more about Castiel and his million houses or whatever, but there’s something authoratitative about the man that makes Dean hopeful he can help. If Castiel can stop this from happening again, then Dean’s all for it. 

“You’ll fix this right?” Dean asks when there’s a lull in the questions. 

Castiel’s frowning in concentration as he goes back and forth between two parchments to double check his own notes. “I’ll try,” he mumbles more to himself than Dean. “I will try very hard to do so.”

Dean already feels relieved. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Cas?” He looks up from his work in bewilderment.

“Dude, you look like my best friend’s long lost twin. I sure as fuck don’t go around calling him James and I ain’t calling you Castiel.”

“My cousin calls me Cassie,” he offers.

Dean wrinkles his nose. “Ew, no. I had a girlfriend named Cassie. Just… no.”

“I fail to see the problem—” There must be something in Dean’s glare, because he cuts himself off and rolls his eyes. “ _ Fine _ .”

“Don’t need to be so grumpy about it,” Dean teases. “It suits you, anyway.”

The last thing Dean sees before he disappears back to his own room is the slow smile spreading on Cas’ face. 


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The next time Dean disappears (or appears, depending on how you look at it), he ends up in the middle of the town. Thank god he's in more than his boxers this time, even if he still gets strange looks from the townsfolk.

**_Townsfolk_ ** _! Never would've thought I'd use that word outside of Moondoor…  _

His first instinct is to pull out his phone and check to see if it works. There won’t be a signal or anything, but if he could take a picture— 

No dice. The phone won’t even turn on and he  _ knows _ it was fully charged. Great. Maybe there’s some sort of electromagnetic interference that comes with time travel.

He has to ask his way around to find Cas’ home. The people he approaches seem uneasy, but they answer his questions and he gets there without too much hassle. Even if he does feel eyes on him the whole way there… 

His knock on the heavy door is almost immediately answered.

“Hey, Cas— hey!” He's practically yanked off his feet as Cas drags him in and slams the door shut behind them. “What the hell—?”

“Were you followed?” Cas demands. His eyes light up with an ethereal shine, so faint that Dean might be imagining it.

He doesn't think he's imagining it though.

“Why would I be followed?”

“Answer the question,” Cas snaps, then rolls his eyes and corrects himself. “Answer my question first.”

“I don’t think I was. I think I got some attention, but I don’t exactly dress like everyone else around here.” The boots maybe, but the jeans not so much. No one here seemed to have any flannel, either. “Why? You saying someone might  _ want _ to follow me?”

“I have no idea,” Cas says honestly. He motions to a servant—the dude has  _ servants _ —and then starts to lead Dean down the hallway, moving so quickly that Dean has to scramble to catch up so he can hear him. “I’m not even sure why you’re here, so I can’t begin to guess who might be interested in your appearance. I can, however, guess that there certainly  _ are _ interested parties.”

They return to the study, a whole slew of papers on the desk that Cas clears away. He pulls out the parchment from Dean’s last visit, then turns an hour glass upside down.

“We need to figure out how long and often your jumps here are,” Cas explains at Dean’s quizzical look. “How long ago did you appear in the village?”

“Dunno, maybe half an hour ago?”

Cas nods and makes a note. “That’s about how long you were here the last time. Your appearances are increasing in length, but I doubt it’s a linear progression. Tell me, what do you—?”

“Look,” Dean interrupts. He digs a piece of paper out of his back pocket and folds it out in front of him on the table. “I appreciate you’re trying to help, but I’ve got questions of my own. Think we could do that trading off thing?”

Cas scowls but doesn’t protest. “If we must. But time is of the essence, so please ask and answer your questions quickly.”

“Cool. Can I go first?”

“If it’s cool, I can have the fire lit.”

“Huh?” Dean replays what he just said and then laughs. “No, I mean… You know what, don’t worry about it. I’m going first, okay?”

The notebook paper in front of him has a list of questions. After the boxer incident, Jimmy had  _ insisted _ that Dean do a better job of getting info out of Fake Jimmy (“His name’s Castiel.” “Yeah that doesn’t even sound like a name. I’m just gonna call him Fake Me.”). Jimmy was only humoring Dean, but he’d had fun offering suggestions. Dean now regrets letting Jimmy’s imagination go wild… some of these questions are useless. 

He picks the first one that looks even somewhat reasonable.

“What year is it?” Dean asks. “Oh shit, can I borrow a pen or something?”

Cas makes a face like that’s an absurd question, but he hands Dean a piece of charcoal and answers. “It is the fifth year after the Fall of Lucifer, the sixtieth after the Disappearance of Lord Shurley, and the two hundred and ninety first since the Raising of the Garrison.”

Dean blinks at Cas. He’d expected fifteen hundred something. Maybe a hundred years before or after, but definitely in that range. Things like ‘Fall of Lucifer’ and ‘Raising of the Garrison’ mean nothing to him, and he has no idea what to do with Cas’ answer. He writes it down anyway. 

_ What the fuck does this even  _ **_mean_ ** _? _

_ It means it’s not time travel, that’s for fucking sure.  _

“Uh, okay. Thanks. Your turn, I guess.”

“Well now you bring up an interesting point,” Cas says. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018,” Dean answers automatically. 

Cas raises an eyebrow expectantly. “Two thousand and eighteen years after what?” he prompts when it’s evident Dean has nothing else to add.”

“Well uh I suppose since Jesus was born.”

“You  _ suppose _ ?” Cas looks both affronted and amused, a strange mix that makes Dean fidget uncomfortably under his gaze. 

“It doesn’t really come up a whole lot,” he says defensively. “It’s not like I’m thinking about Jesus every time I write the date. You saying you think about your Garrison or whatever every time you talk about the year?”

“The Garrison and Lord Shurley not so much, but I promise you not a day goes by I don’t think about Fall of Lucifer.” His eyes flicker with some emotion, there and gone in an instant, and Dean wonders what the hell this Lucifer did that sets Cas on edge five years later. Before he can ask, though, Cas keeps going. “I suppose this means you come from another world. Some pocket dimension or some place parallel or different from this one.”

“I thought I was time traveling,” Dean admits. 

“I thought you were an apparition and not a real person.”

“Hey!”

Cas smiles apologetically. “No offense was meant. It seemed more likely that you were some image conjured up rather than anything else. Though it’s infinitely more troubling to know you’re real.”

“Well sorry my existence is  _ inconvenient _ ,” Dean huffs. 

“You in and of yourself aren’t inconvenient. I just worry about where you’re coming from and how you’re getting here.”

A servant drops off tea and biscuits. They’re grainier than Dean’s used to, but the butter is  _ delicious _ . He hopes Cas doesn’t notice that he puts three of them on his plate.

“I mean wasn’t me appearing  _ always _ what we were talking about? No way it’s  _ good _ .”

“No,” Cas concedes with a sigh. “It was never  _ good _ , but I was hoping it was innocuous. Now I fear it’s something  _ bad _ .”

Blood thrums in Dean’s ears and he winces. “Hate to cut this short, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to disappear on ‘ya.”

“I’ll see what I can do about having you appear within the boundary of the house next time.” Cas checks the hourglass and writes on the parchment. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“What?  _ How _ —?”

With a faint  _ pop! _ the study vanishes, and Dean is left wondering what on earth Cas meant.

~ ~ ~

“Is there magic in your world?” Cas says abruptly when Dean’s brought into his study. 

He’d appeared in the house kitchens and scared a poor woman washing dishes half to death, but once she’d recovered she’d diligently lead him up to her master. Cas hadn’t even blinked when Dean showed up, just shuffled through his papers to get his parchment and then tipped over the hourglass.

“Magic? Like Abra Kadabra, pulling rabbits out of your hat, and sawing your assistant in half?”

Cas looks both shocked and appalled. “ _ What _ ? Your magicians saw people in half?”

Dean shrugs and takes his usual seat. “I mean, not really. I think the trick is that there are two people in the box. One in the bottom and one in the top, and so when they put the saw through the box, it just  _ looks _ like they cut ‘em in half.”

It takes Cas a moment to piece that together. “So your world does  _ not _ have true magic?”

“True magic?” Dean scoffs. “Nah man, just tricks. Magic ain’t real.”

Cas gives him an appraising look. Then he snaps his fingers, a ball of fire appearing in the palm of his hand. It glows a faint yellow and when Dean leans forward it even gives off heat. It  _ looks _ damn real, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t an illusion.

“Uhhh…” he says dumbly, not sure what kind of a reaction Cas is going for. “That’s… nice?”

“Hold out your palm. Keep it flat. Yes, like that.” Cas waits until Dean had done as instructed, then he gently nudges the fireball from his own hand into Dean’s. Dean gasps as the fireball spat a few embers onto his shirt. Definitely real fire.

“What the hell?” He shakes his hand a few times to dislodge the fire, but it clings to his palm no matter how he moves it. The only thing that changes is that it heats up and starts to actually  _ hurt _ whenever he turns his hand upside down.

“Stop,” Cas scolds and grabs his wrist. “Heat rises. Keep it pointed up unless you want to burn yourself.”

“How did you get a ball of fire out of thin air?” 

Cas smiles wryly as he takes back the fireball and then extinguishes it with another snap of his fingers. “It’s a simple spell. Most people learn it as children, since it’s easier than using flint or matches to light fires. Do you truly have no such magic in your world?”

“We have lighters,” Dean offers weakly. Then a thought occurs to him: Cas called that a  _ simple _ spell. “What  _ else _ can you do?” he asks, his thoughts racing with excitement. “Are you a magician? A mage? A wizard? Can you cast lightning or— or summon creatures to do your bidding? Holy crap, am I in a Harry Potter AU?”

“You have a lot of questions. Some of them complete gibberish, but mostly ones I can answer.” Cas’ tone is amused, and he leans back in his chair like a father indulging a small child’s curiosity. “I was so preoccupied with my own questions about your world, that it didn’t occur to me that perhaps letting you know more about mine would be just as enlightening.”

“Enlighten away,” Dean says eagerly. 

If he thought that would make Cas start blabbing about who he is and all the magic he can do, Dean would’ve been wrong. Instead Cas sits there and stares into nothing as he considers what to tell Dean. Or perhaps he wonders where to start.  _ Dean _ knows first hand how different their worlds are, so much so that he’d thought time travel a likely explanation. Cas only has what Dean says to go on, that and such details as how Dean speaks and the clothes that he wears. 

“My name is Castiel Milton,” he starts slowly. Apparently starting at the beginning is his plan. “Lord Milton, actually. My family has had the title for generations and our familial holdings include a small estate but an hour’s ride from town. This is my city home, where I normally reside.” 

“You have an  _ estate _ and you live here instead? Not this place isn’t its own kind of awesome, but  _ why _ ?” 

Cas wrinkles his nose. “I don’t much like the title Lord Milton. Makes me sound more important than I am.”

_ You’re a  _ **_lord_ ** _ who does  _ **_magic_ ** _ , _ Dean thinks in awe.  _ You  _ **_must_ ** _ be important. _

“You asked about what I am. I am a knight, technically. One who specializes in arcane magic and investigating paranormal activity. Essentially, I’m from an order that uses magic to defend the world from demons, monsters, and the like.”

Cas says it all so casually. Like he isn’t dropping a huge bombshell. 

_ Magic’s real and I use it all the time. So are monsters and demons, and I fight them. Yes, I really am the coolest person you’ve ever met. _

“Go on,” Dean squeaks.

“I… used to have a partner. Another knight by the name of Michael.”

Dean frowns. “Didn’t you think  _ I _ was Michael when we first met? What, we look alike?”

“Something like that.” 

If there is anything more to it than that, Cas doesn’t offer more information and Dean doesn’t push. He’s having enough trouble wrapping his head around magic and demons, he doesn’t need  _ more _ .

“Michael and I had been brothers in arms for many years. He had a brother, Lucifer, who had dark aspirations to rule this world. Together Michael and I stopped him. Michael had been  devastasted at his younger brother’s choices…” Cas shakes his head. “In the end, I was the one who had to strike the fatal blow. Blood protection kept Michael from doing it, which I think was probably for the best. It would’ve destroyed Michael if he’d had to do it himself.”

_ It’s the fifth year after the Fall of Lucifer... _

_ I promise you not a day goes by I don’t think about Fall of Lucifer... _

“Oh,” Dean breathes out. “I’m sorry.”

Cas holds up a hand. “Don’t be. I did what was necessary, and if I had to, I’d do it all over again.”

“Did Michael… blame you for Lucifer’s death…?”

“He avoided me for some time, so I thought he did. It’s only recently that I found out the truth was much more terrible. After we defeated Lucifer, we destroyed everything. His notes, his home, his network of followers. Or so I thought. In truth, Michael had taken a great many of Lucifer’s notes and kept them. He was bewitched by them and the promise of more power. 

“So instead of burning the plans that had ruined his brother, he kept them. Read them. Added to them. Grew his own network of supporters…” Cas looks suddenly very weary. “All those times he mourned his brother’s fall from grace, yet he too fell into the abyss of black magic.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean doesn’t know what else to say. What  _ can _ you say to comfort someone whose best friend betrayed them?

“I’m over it. Or over it enough that I’ve stopped turning a blind eye to what he’s doing. I let things get this far, I’m determined not to let them go farther. Michael’s my responsibility.”

Dean nods. He understands that. While he can’t imagine being in Cas’ position, he knows he’d do his best to take care of Jimmy if anything happened. He wouldn’t leave it to someone else, he’d do everything he could to save Jimmy… even if that meant saving Jimmy from himself.

_ And if Jimmy couldn’t be saved? _ he wonders. 

_ Well, it’s a good thing I’m  _ **_not_ ** _ in Cas’ position. _

“I stormed his keep a few weeks ago. I’d had enough of his secrets and I wanted to put an end to it. He fled before I could stop him. My allies are doing their best to help me track him down before he—”

“Wait,” Dean interrupts. “What does this have to do with me? You thought I was Michael. I appeared  _ after _ you cornered him and forced his hand. How am I connected to all this?”

The familiar pull that warns him of his impending disappearance made him flinch slightly, but he pushes aside the feeling and focuses on Cas. He needs an answer. This is why Cas is telling him all this, right? He has a theory and Dean would be  _ pissed _ if he disappeared before hearing what it was.

Cas avoids Dean’s eye. “I’m not sure, but you’re clearly apart of this. I’ve gone through Michael’s notes, the ones I took from his keep, and what little I’ve decoded have me worried…”

“Cas…” The pull is incessant now. He has maybe a minute left. “Spill. What’s Michael’s plan? Am I in trouble? Can I  _ help _ ?”

“I don’t know what his plan is… but I fear your world is at the center of it. Lucifer would never have been successful here, even if Michael and I  _ hadn’t _ fought him. We all wield magic. It’s a part of life. Granted, there are more skilled casters, but everyone can do it. I believe Michael has decided that… that such an uphill battle isn’t worth it. That if he wants to take over, he need only go to a place that will offer less resistance.”

Now Cas looks up and meets Dean’s eye. There’s nothing but sympathy there, and Dean sees it all in those sad blue eyes. 

Michael wants to take over Dean’s world with magic. With enough magic, he might even be able to. Then what?

“How do we stop—?” Pain has him doubling over. There’s no more fighting the invisible tether from yanking him back to his own world. When he materializes back on his own couch, Dean does the only thing his body would let him.

He slumps over and passes out.


	5. Chapter 4

**** “So what ever happened to Fake Me?” Jimmy asks over breakfast. His mouth is full of cereal and there’s a slight milk moustache on his upper lip. “You haven’t talked about him much lately. He dump you or you stop getting high on bath salts?”

“I don’t take baths,” Dean says automatically as he goes to the coffee maker. He does. Jimmy  _ knows _ he does (they’ve had a discussion about bath bombs and scented candles vs incense). He doesn’t like talking about it though. 

“Uh huh.” Jimmy pokes the air with his spoon. “What about Fake Me?”

It’s been a couple days since Dean found out about the magic in Cas’ world. Long enough for the news to settle in and become almost normal. Not boring, it’s still cool as fuck, but he’s associated Cas with magic for long enough that to him, that’s just how Cas is. 

He’s somewhat avoided thinking about Michael and what  _ he _ might be doing with said magic. No reason to fret about things he can’t do anything about, not until he sees Cas again anyway. 

But he hasn't told Jimmy anything. He didn't even realize it until just now. Which begs the question… why  _ is  _ he keeping it to himself?

Easy answer: Jimmy clearly doesn't believe him. Adding magic and demons and a plot to take over the world will make Jimmy less inclined to take him seriously, so why waste his breath?

_ You told Jimmy about the time you got so drunk you pissed yourself at a frat party.  _ **_And_ ** _ the time you saw Halle Berry at the Gas n Sip. You tell him  _ **_everything_ ** _ , even if it's embarrassing or he won't believe you. _

More honest answer: Dean kind of wants to keep Cas to himself. Make he likes having a mage knight friend that he doesn't have to share.

“Guess he got bored of me,” Dean says with a dramatic sigh.

“Awwww, poor Dean Bean's stuck with the real deal. How tragic.” With a wide smile, Jimmy goes back to his cereal. 

Dean's surprised; he doesn't feel guilty at all.

~ ~ ~

“Hello Dean,” Cas says with a warm smile. Dean tries not to preen under his attention.

“Hey Cas. Long time no see.”

“It's only been four days. That's hardly long at all.” He frowns and then huffs in exasperation. “That was a joke, wasn't it? Honestly, your humor isn't nearly as comical as you seem to think it is.”

_ God he's adorable. _

Dean's mind screeches to a halt and his smile falters as he registers the thought. With his blood pounding on his ears, Dean can't hear what Cas is saying.

And in that instant, Cas looks exactly like Jimmy.

A blush colors his cheeks and Dean coughs to interrupt Cas and collect himself.

“Sorry, I missed that. What were you saying?”

Cas pauses as though contemplating whether or not to comment on Dean’s lapse in attention, knuckle rapping lightly on his desk, but then backtracks for Dean’s benefit. “I’ve taken some precautions to make sure that make sure when you disappear from your world and end up in mine, you’ll arrive within the confines of my house. I’ll spare you the details, especially since I see that it  _ worked _ .”

Indeed it had. Dean had popped into existence a few feet away from Cas’ desk, right in the study he always seems to end up in anyway. Convenient.

Taking his usual chair, Dean waggles his eyebrows. “Were these  _ magical _ precautions?”

“Of course they were,” Cas says dryly, though the hint of amusement in his eyes makes it clear he’s teasing. How Jimmy-like and at the same time completely  _ not _ Jimmy-like. 

Ugh, he  _ really _ needs to stop thinking about Jimmy or he’d start getting confused. 

“Would you like me to teach you some spells? Obviously nothing too complicated, and I doubt they’ll work at all in your world so you’ll only be able to practice here, but you seem curious—”

“Hells yeah I’m curious!” Dean was never much of the mage type, not in video games or even while LARPing. He prefers being a warrior or soldier. Swinging heavy swords around? Very cool. He’s made fun of Sam a  _ million _ times at least for being a Mage of Moondoor, because quite frankly it’s ridiculous to wave a staff and yell out things like  _ Frostbolt! _ and  _ Lightning Shield! _ so that everyone would  _ imagine _ the spell happening. 

Fake swords were a hundred times better than fake magic.

Cas’ magic? Not fake, and therefore as equally cool as swords.

“I thought you might be. I took the liberty of putting together a few incantations that would be a good start—”

Dean puts a hand up to interrupt Cas. “Could you back up a second? Don’t get me wrong, I wanna do those incantations or whatever, but why don’t you think the magic will work in my world? I thought your buddy Michael wanted to take over my world  _ with magic _ , and now you’re saying that he can’t do magic there?” 

At the mention of Michael’s name, Cas’ expression sours a bit. “I said no such thing. I said  _ you _ will likely be unable to perform even the easiest of spells in your world. Based on what I can decode from Michael and Lucifer’s notes, your world has no magic because it’s not suited for it. Ours very much is, so it’s easy for anyone to perform given practice. In your world, I suspect only a great master could do any magic and all, and likely only with talismans that could focus their energy to the task.”

“And Michael’s a great master?” Dean asks, dreading the answer.

“Indeed he is. When he breaks into your world, assuming he has not already, he will spend a great deal of time and effort learning how to do magic again. He’ll collect the necessary talismans and he’ll practice, and only once he’s comfortable with the amount of power he can wield will he move on with his plans.”

“Awesome,” Dean grits out. His earlier excitement’s all but gone. Forget the magic lesson, there’s a psychopath out there trying to bring about the Apocalypse. “Shouldn’t we be focusing on stopping him? Do we really have time to waste on me learning a few parlor tricks?”

“I would like to remind you that I come from a long line of magic practitioners and that our talents shouldn’t be boiled down to mere ‘parlor tricks.’” Cas levels a stony glare at Dean.

“So- _ sorry _ , I didn’t mean—”

“I’m joking.”

“... You’re shitting me.” Cas looks absolutely appalled by the expression, so Dean shakes his head and rephrases: “You were kidding. Ha ha, I get it, you really fooled me.”

“Do people frequently ‘shit’ each other in your world— Never mind, I don’t want to know.” Cas waves his hand in front of him as if to dismiss the entire thought from his mind and erase that whole part of the conversation. “I understand how magic must seem to someone who has only known of it as trickery and illusions. I know you meant no offense, and I completely understand your concern about Michael. Trust me, as the one who knows what he’s truly capable of, I share those concerns.”

“And we’re doing nothing because…?”

“ _ You _ are doing nothing because until we know more, there is nothing for you  _ to _ do. Warning your people is meaningless. I doubt anyone would believe you, and Michael will have taken precautions so that you  _ can’t _ stop him.”

“So we’re supposed to wait for him to make a move—?”

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Let me speak.” 

Dean does  _ not _ pout.

“Thank you,” Cas soothes. “ _ You _ are doing nothing, but  _ I _ am not. I’ve summoned my closest allies to discuss strategy with me. They’ll be arriving within the next few days. I also have my people scouring the lands for Michael. He will still have a base of operations here until he figures out how to permanently stay in your world.”

“What makes you think he hasn’t already?”

“Just a feeling.” 

It’s a lie, or a half truth at best. Before Dean can call him out on it though, Cas offers a little more. 

“I think your visits here might be connected with his attempts to break through there. You two are… tied. I don’t know how or why, but there is certainly a resemblance between you two. Perhaps you’re two halves of the same soul—” Dean’s heart leaps in his throat; not because of what that says about him and Michael, but because he wonders what that means about Cas and Jimmy. “—or it’s merely a coincidence that Michael’s exploiting. Either way,  _ your _ visits here are getting longer. I fear that means he is having more success in his attempts.”

“... Are you saying we’re trading places? Because if so, that’s really fucking worrying. I was  _ at home _ . If he’s near Jimmy—”

“If you are trading places, it’s in a more general sense. His appearance there is forcing you into this realm.  _ You _ have never appeared in whatever hideaway he is using, so I very much doubt  _ he _ has appeared in your home. I doubt he would want to. No offense, but non-magic wielders are less than dirt to him.”

“... And this guy was your friend?”

“Best friend,” Cas says sadly. “He was very good at hiding his truth self from me, or perhaps I was merely too naive to see it. Either way, I regret my previous blindness immensely.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean says. He means it. He can’t imagine how hard it must be to lose your best friend. If he lost Jimmy… And if he’d at all thought he could have  _ prevented _ it if only he’d paid more attention? Damn, that would suck. 

“What’s done is done, there’s no use in being sorry about it.” Cas’ expression makes it abundantly clear that  _ he _ at least is sorry, despite his words that it’s useless. “We’ll move forward, and we’ll stop Michael. That at least I have some control over.”

“So,” Dean says after a moment’s heavy silence. “Those magic lessons…?”

It’s an obvious change of topic, but one that Cas jumps on. They abandon Cas’ study and head to what Dean can only describe as a dungeon or  _ maybe _ an alchemist’s lab if he’s feeling generous. The stone walls and dark lighting really emphasize the whole medieval vibe.

And the chains on the wall made it clear that this room had been used as an actual dungeon each once.

“The walls are thick,” Cas says when he notices Dean staring. “If a spell goes awry, it won’t damage the house.”

“If you say so.”

They spend nearly an hour working on spells. By the end, Dean can get a flame to flicker to life (even if it almost immediately fizzles out), summon a faint, almost-there breeze, and make his eyes adjust to see in the dark (or at least he sees  _ better _ in the dim light). Dean’s so excited, he’s more annoyed than usual when the familiar pull warns him he’s leaving. 

“See ya around, Cas. Can’t wait to meet your friends.”

“You say that now,” Cas says, his voice garbled as Dean’s ears start to pop out of existence. “Wait until you’ve actually met them.”

~ ~ ~

Only two days later, Dean disappears from a campus bathroom and arrives in Cas’ parlor. Great. How’s he going to explain to his professor why he missed the last half of class. Food poisoning? He did go to the bathroom… 

With a sigh, Dean resigns himself to begging for forgiveness and hoping Professor Mills will go easy on him. 

A sound outside the window catches his attention. It’s not a familiar one, not like a truck loudly coming to a stop or a distant siren. It was distinctly  _ other _ , something he’d never hear in Lawrence and if he did, the sound would be just as confusing and hard to place. 

Dean pokes his head through the curtains, trying to catch sight of whatever had made that noise—

“Don’t,” Castiel snaps while he draws Dean away from the window. “You shouldn’t be seen.”

His hand is like a vice on Dean’s arm, and he’s briefly reminded of their first meeting. He doesn’t like it; aren’t they supposed to be friends now?

“Sorry,” Dean says gruffly as he pulls his arm away. 

Cas’ eyes go wide and then he groans. “Apologies, that was rude. You shouldn’t be seen, as I’ve said. But there was no need to force you bodily away from the window.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Cas. The anger fizzles out quickly, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

There’s a knock that resonates from the hallway. A servant’s footsteps head to the door to let in the guest.

“That will be Meg,” Cas explains. “She’s the last to arrive. My other friends are all here and are eager to meet you.”

With a gesture, he leads Dean out into the hallway. There’s a tense line across his shoulders; the curtain thing really bothered him, and Dean makes a mental note to try and find out why. 

“Meg,” Cas says to a petite woman with wavy hair and an arch look. “Thank you for coming.”

“Any time, Clarence.” She winks at Cas. “You’re a huge tease, only telling me this was a chance to screw over Michael. Obviously I was going to come see for myself.”

Cas snorts. “Yes, you were right about Michael. Happy?”

She smiles and gives a half shrug. “What can I say? I’m an excellent judge of assholes. Which brings us to the next asshole you plan on forcing me to associate with…?”

“Oh, yes of course. Meg, this is Dean.” He gestures to Dean with a sweep of his hand. The gesture is casual, but his eyes are tight.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Meg says as she looks Dean up and down, then laughs like she’s told a joke. “You got a type,” she says pointedly to Cas, then walks past him towards his study. 

“What was that about?” Dean asks before she's quite out of earshot.

“You'll get used to Meg,” Cas grumbles under his breath. “We may as well get the other introductions out of the way.”

The rest of Cas’ friends are chatting in the study. The go quiet when Cas enters the room, but they go dead silent when they see Dean. It's almost like the air and warmth has been sucked out of the room. There's a mix of surprise and horror as they look him over. Only Meg smiles at him, winking as she helps herself to a sip of brandy.

“I've told you about Dean,” Cas says sharply. His friends blink in surprise and make a show of not staring. “Dean, these are my closest friends and allies—”

“Excluding Michael,” a man says sharply. 

Cas ignores him.

“—This is Hannah, a distant cousin and scholar of alchemy. Meg you’ve met, she specializes in grey magic.”

“Grey magic?”

Meg chuckles, low and sultry. “That’s a fancy way of saying I dabble in dark magic, but I don’t go so far as to sell my soul or kill innocents or do blood sacrifice.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Cas says with exasperation.

“No, it really isn’t.”

Cas doesn’t argue the point further. “This is Balthazar. He collects powerful artifacts and uses their hidden magics to create spells.” The man inclines his head ever so slightly, a bored look as he thumbs the edges of a dagger on display. The runic inscriptions on the blade glow as Balthazar’s fingers pass over them. “And finally, we have Ruby. She’s good at blood magic. Binding spells, love potions, that sort of things.”

Dean stares at the brunette who eyes him back skeptically. “What?”

“Uh, nothing.” Dean turns his head to the ceiling. “You just… look a lot like a chick my brother used to date.” Dean never liked that girl—she’d broken Sam’s heart and hadn’t been great to him before that—and he’s disquieted by seeing her double. 

Double.

This isn’t just a look a like, these women could be  _ twins _ . If Dean didn’t know they were different people, he would’ve sworn they are the  _ same person _ . 

“Cas…” Dean’s voice is shaky. He’s trembling so badly he wants to sit down or at least reach for the doorjamb to hold himself steady. Instead he clenches his fists. He can do this. “Can I have a word with you?”

Without a word, he sighs and leads Dean out of the study and down the hallway. None of his friends say a word and Dean doesn’t turn back to see what they think of all this. 

They enter a room Dean’s never been in before, and instantly Dean’s pointing an accusing finger at Cas. 

“Dean…”

Dean ignores him.

“You said I  _ looked _ like this Michael guy. Now it all makes sense. You don’t want people to see me, you really  _ did _ think I was Michael when we met, and all your friends are freaking out just looking at me.” He shakes his head. “I should’ve known the moment I saw you. You look way too much like Jimmy.”

“Dean—”

“No, don’t you  _ Dean _ me! There’s more to this than me and Michael looking alike—”

“ _ Dean _ .”

Cas pushes Dean’s shoulder and turns him around so he’s facing the large portrait over the fireplace. In it, Cas looks particularly regal in his armor and a deep red robe. Next to him in equally splendid finery is… well, it’s  _ Dean _ . Everything about him is the same, from the freckles to the dirty blond streaks in his hair to the flirty smile. The only difference is in the eyes. Oh they’re the same color, but there’s a spark of cruelty in them that Dean recognizes.

Not because Dean thinks he’s a cruel man, not at all, but because he’s  _ seen _ that look in his own eyes when he looks in the mirror.

He shivers and turns away. 

“Michael and I really do share a soul or something, don’t we? That wasn’t just speculation, that was you trying to break it to me gently.”

Cas’ silence is heavy with guilt. 

“Cas, what  _ am _ I?”

“I don’t know,” Cas whispers. “But you are the only way Michael has any foothold in your world.”

“So what does that mean? If Michael takes over my world, it’s my fault?”

“It’s not a matter of fault. You are  _ not _ Michael, no more than I am your friend Jimmy or Ruby is the woman you once knew. We are connected but not identical. And your connection to Michael, we can use it to our advantage. It’s likely he doesn’t know about it. He doesn’t pay attention to people, it’s always been a weakness of his.”

“So you’ve been nice to me all this time so you can  _ use _ me against your best friend—?”

“I’ve been nice to you because I care about you and your world,” Cas snaps back. “Yes, we can use you against Michael, but I will not do anything against your will. Any help you offer, I will gladly accept it. And if you would rather not help, then you needn’t. Dean, please, look at me.”

Begrudgingly, Dean does just that. Cas looks like he wants to reach out and comfort him, but he restrains himself. 

“Dean, we’ll fix this. And from this moment on, I won’t hide anything from you. Not about myself or Michael or anything else you might wish to know.”

Dean wants to be petulant and storm out, but he’s not an idiot. He likes Cas, trusts him, and he can understand Cas’ reasons even if he hates the situation that forced them. 

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll stay and I’ll try to help. But you gotta keep me in the loop, okay? I don’t want to be blindsided with shit like this anymore.”

“You won’t be,” Cas reassures him, looking so adorably relieved Dean has the fleeting impulse to hug him (or worse,  _ kiss _ him). “Shall we go back to the study to discuss things?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”


	6. Chapter 5

**** The rest of the evening was spent in Cas’ study with his friends. It’s slightly uncomfortable, mostly because everyone’s so stressed and they barely try to engage Dean in the conversation. There isn’t a whole lot he  _ can _ contribute, so he gets it, but he doesn’t have to  _ like _ it. 

At least now when they openly stare at him, Dean understands why.

There a whole lot of things they still don’t know, variables they can’t account for, but they work with what they’ve got. Meg, Hannah, Ruby, and Balthazar agree to spread word around of Michael’s return and try to find his new hiding place. Cas will work on using Dean to help them and using him to keep track of how often Michael’s staying in Dean’s world.

And Dean? Dean gets to be uncomfortable mix of bait and science experiment.

“Yaay,” Dean says unenthusiastically when Balthazar more or less points this out. “So glad I’m here to help. Go team.”

Meg and Balthazar look amused, but Cas does not. 

“You are helping,” Cas says earnestly. “I can’t say enough how important you are to this. Without you, we wouldn’t have any idea what Michael was planning or how far he’d gotten.”

“Yes,” Ruby drawls. “You’re the dead canary that lets us know we’re all about to suffocate.”

Dean is once again so  _ so _ glad that Sam stopped dating this chick, or rather her non-magic equivalent. 

“Hey, I’m still tweeting, sister,” he snaps at her. “We’re not doomed yet.”

“No,” Hannah agrees. “We’re not. And  _ we _ won’t be. I doubt after Michael finishes with your world, he’ll have any need to come back to ours. He wants power and his own realm to dominate. That will never happen here, as Lucifer’s failure showed.”

Balthazar clicks his tongue. “You’re right. Or you would be, if Michael weren’t a twat. You’re talking  _ logic. _ Logically, he’ll take over Dean’s world and be done with ours. That’s what a sane person would do. Michael is decidedly  _ not _ a sane person.”

Hannah frowns in confusion. “What are you saying?”

“This world, its people,  _ him _ .” Balthazar gestures emphatically to Cas. “ _ This _ is personal. What’s the point of him taking over some world if he doesn’t have anyone to gloat to? No, he’ll use that world and all he can get from it to continue Lucifer’s work here. He’ll bribe and coerce and recruit with the endless wealth of a whole world at his disposal. Non-magic slaves he can throw as cannon fodder at our armies while he takes out those of us who are actually competent mages. If he plays this right, we’re all royally screwed.”

All eyes turn to Cas, who sits brooding at his desk, fingers steepled under his chin and his gaze distant. It’s so quiet Dean can hear his heart pounding in his ears.

“He’s right,” Cas says slowly. “At the very least, he’ll want to show off that he succeeded where his brother failed. He’ll want to show  _ me _ I shouldn’t have abandoned his side. Michael leaving is temporary. So long as he still draws breath, Michael will  _ always _ come back.”

There’s such finality to the declaration that it’s like a candle being snuffed out. The energy drains from the room, everyone looks down in dismay, and Dean feels his own hopes crumbling. 

Meg’s the first to break the somber atmosphere with a loud, overly dramatic sigh. “Well that’s exactly the type of pep talk I think we needed. Thanks, boss.”

“I don’t want to lie and pretend things are better than they are,” Cas says defensively. “The truth is important in battle.”

“And devastating for morale,” Meg counters. “You’re lucky we’re all up for a suicide mission, or you’d be in real trouble.”

“When isn’t he?” Balthazar says fondly. 

“You’re all terrible friends. You’ll make Dean think I’m some incapable, bumbling knight who can’t manage to keep any of his affairs in order without them blowing up in his face. Give me  _ some _ credit.”

Balthazar and Meg share a look. 

“We certainly wouldn’t want the mortal thinking you’re useless,” Meg says with a thin smile and fluttering eyelashes.

“... Are you guys  _ not _ mortal?” Dean asks, more to change the topic than out of any actual belief that the men and women before him are flesh and blood like him.

Balthazar laughs and shakes his head before clapping a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “He is cute, I’ll give you that. Try to take better care of this one, darling. I don’t know if the world can handle the fallout of one of your failed  _ alliances. _ ” He says ‘alliance’ like he means something else entirely.

If Dean’s allowing himself to be honest, he knows  _ exactly _ what Balthazar’s implying. For years he’s had to dodge those kinds of implications about him and Jimmy, so it’s only second nature for him to ignore it now.

… It does make him wonder though.

“This was fun—” Ruby’s tone makes it clear that it very much was not. “—but we should get to work. If Castiel hasn’t been able to find Michael on his own, it’ll take all of us to do it. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have this over with.”

“Agreed,” Hannah says and rises from her chair. “We should begin immediately if we’re going to have the most success.”

The others start to stretch and say their goodbyes, but Dean doesn’t hear more than a few words of it before he  _ pops! _ right out of Cas’ study and back into the empty bathroom stall. 

He laughs at how absurd his life is, shakes his head, and then tries to figure out how the hell he’s going to explain the last few hours to his professor… 

~ ~ ~

The moon as high in the sky by the time Dean got home, big and bright and reminding him just how damn long his day had been. Class, his little stop at Cas’ place, trying to smooth things over with his professor, and then work at the Roadhouse. Fucking exhausting.

“You’re late,” Jimmy scoffs when Dean shoulders into the apartment. He’s wearing his penguin slippers, one of Dean’s ratty shirts that’s so old it has holes in the armpits and the hem was coming apart, and his obnoxious orange boxers. It was a ridiculous combination.

All of Dean's exhaustion melts away. 

What does it mean that Jimmy has that effect on him?

_ Ugh, abort abort. Thinking about Jimmy stuff when I've got Cas stuff too… talk about a headache  _ **_and_ ** _ a mind fuck. _

“Late?” he asks instead. He looks around the living room. Popcorn. Beer. The TV set to Netflix. “Shit, it's movie night isn't it?”

Jimmy looks absolutely appalled. “You forgot movie night?”

They've been doing movie nights together since they were kids. It started as sleepovers and never really stopped as they got older. With work and school, they couldn't do the impromptu movie nights like they used to, so they're forced to schedule it ahead of time. Second Thursday of the month without fail, and they binged everything from shitty “so bad they're good” movies to the classics.

And Dean legit forgot all about it.

“Sorry, I did.”

Jimmy throws up his arms. “The hell man? You're the reliable I've between the two of us, and here you are cutting class and forgetting movie night!”

“Dude, I'm sorry—” He pauses. “Wait, skipping class?”

“Yeah. Benny saw you downtown today. Said you were acting weird and blew him off. He texted me right when you should’ve been in class. Ergo, slipping class.”

Dean wasn’t in class. He was at Cas’ place. So if someone saw  _ him _ , then it wasn’t him at all. 

He can feel himself deflating at the idea that Michael was downtown. More proof that his plans are moving along any that Cas needs to do something  _ soon. _

“Dude, you okay?” Jimmy places a hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezes. The gentle pressure grounds Dean. “Sorry if I was too harsh. I'm not one in a position to judge anyone for skipping class, but it's not very  _ you _ . And now you're freaking out and like… I'm worried? If that makes sense? So if there's anything I can do to help, lemme know.”

“I gotta—” What, though? Tell Cas? There's shit he can do until he's back in Cas’ world, so what's the point of freaking out now? Dean forces a few deep breaths in and out, closes his eyes and collects his thoughts.

“I did miss class. I wasn't feeling well and needed a mental health day.” At least that's what he told his professor, may as well tell Jimmy too. “I just need to relax. So movie night sounds pretty perfect right about now.”

Jimmy's eyes narrow dubiously. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Dean says emphatically, and he means it. A night with Jimmy, just the two of them, no worries about school or work or Cas and Michael… it sounds fucking perfect. “Please.”

It takes a moment for Jimmy's suspicious frown to let up (and  _ wow _ do he and Cas look alike when they frown), but then he smiles wide at Dean and drags him to the couch. 

They do  _ not _ look alike when they smile.

Too bad. Cas would probably look really cute if he relaxed enough to smile like that… 

“Okay.” Jimmy relaxes more as he starts flipping through their options on Netflix. “So they’ve got some new action movies…”

Dean loves action. Mindless action movies with little to no plot, good looking characters, and forgettable villains. They’re easy to watch and don’t stress him out afterwards. 

On the other hand, the pictures of heroes posing on the screen feel a little too much like what he fears his life might become with Cas soon. The world in peril, a group making a final stand… Funny how he always craved adventure, but now he wishes life was normal again.

…  _ But then I wouldn’t know Cas. _

“Hard pass,” Dean says. “Next.”

Jimmy scrolls down. “Rom com?”

Dean’s acutely aware of his last thought and blushes. Thinking about Cas and romance in the same minute throws him for a loop… and only makes him aware of how cute Jimmy looks right now and— 

“Nope,” he says definitively. Romance is a bad idea right now. “Keep going?”

It takes a few more loops through the genres before Dean decides on one. They pick a cheesy slasher fic, one that in no way resembles his life and that barely makes sense even within the context of the movie world. If he wants to unwind from all the Cas and Michael stuff, this is the way to do it.

Jimmy puts on a brave face for half of it, even joins in when Dean starts heckling the characters, but horror movies were never Jimmy’s thing. He’d never admit it, but they freak him out. As the movie goes on, Jimmy shifts closer and closer to Dean on the couch and his laughs become more forced.

Without a word, Dean lifts up the edge of his blanket in offering, wrapping it around an eager Jimmy who basically cuddles next to him like when they’d watch scary movies as kids on Halloween. Maybe a few weeks ago, Dean would be able to think of it as just that: two friends enjoying time together, albeit a little closer than usual. 

They fall asleep on the couch together, Dean sleepily running a hand through Jimmy’s hair as the credits steadily roll to the end. With his growing attraction in Cas, it’s a lot harder for Dean to maintain the careful distance he keeps between himself and Jimmy.

As his dreams take over, Dean wonders  _ why _ he cares so much about that distance, and what it would be like if he tried kissing Jimmy…

… Or Cas.

~ ~ ~

Cas does not look happy when Dean tells him about Michael appearing downtown and being spotted by his friends. Dean’s not exactly thrilled either, and it takes a while before the sour mood lightens. It only happens when an older servant brings dinner and scolds Cas for looking so severe. 

“Relax,” the man says. “It’s not the end of the world.”

Cas smiles grimly at that. “I don’t know about that, Joshua. This time it might be.”

Joshua snorts and rolls his eyes. “That’s the problem with you and your father. Never gave the world enough credit. It’ll keep on keeping on, no matter what you and your friends try to do to muck it up.”

Dean laughs at that, much to Cas’ embarrassment and Joshua’s amusement. 

“Don’t worry yourselves too hard,” Joshua says, shutting the door behind him. “It’s bad for the heart.”

“He’s right.” Cas heaves a sigh and practically falls into his chair. He ignores the tray of food. “We should act when we can and ignore our worries when we can’t. Right now is a waiting game while I try to find a way to exploit your connection with Michael and while everyone else tries to get a lead on his whereabouts.”

Dean picks through the biscuits to find an especially large one and starts spreading warm jam over it. It’s still too grainy, but it’s warm and fresh and everything tastes so damn good he doesn’t care. “What, you can’t use my aura or whatever to track him down?” 

“Perhaps, but that really only works close range. If I have the general vicinity where I know he’s hiding, then I could. Meg’s checking his old hideouts hoping to find something out, and Ruby’s using her old connections with Lucifer’s followers to see if they’ve switched sides—”

“Ruby worked for  _ Lucifer _ ?”

“—and I’m hopeful Hannah will be able to find a potent enough locator spell. The gods only know what Balthazar is doing, but he’s always resourceful so I trust his instincts. That just leaves us, sitting around and waiting like fools.”

“Not just sitting around and waiting.” Dean nudges Cas’ plate closer to him and even goes so far as to pick out a couple biscuits for him. “Eating, too.”

Cas smiles, his eyes sparkling, and that in and of itself is a small victory.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

They eat quietly together. The silence should be awkward or oppressive—they hardly know each other, after all—but it’s as comfortable as eating breakfast with Jimmy. It makes Dean wonder how much of his and Cas’ relationship comes from how Cas and Michael were together.

That also gets Dean thinking about his attraction to Cas, a mirror of a until very recently ignored attraction to Jimmy. Does Cas…?

Never one to think things through, Dean blurts out, “Have you and Michael ever… did you guys…?” He flushes, embarrassed that they’re even having this conversation. “I’m sorry, forget I asked—”

“No,” Cas says with a shrug. 

Relief floods him, though he’s not completely sure why. “Why not?”

“Despite what Meg might have implied, I’ve never been attracted to him.”

“Ouch,” Dean jokes, though it stings. Michael has the same damn face as Dean, for fuck’s sake. And here he is, hoping for… for  _ something _ with Cas, and Cas doesn’t even find him attractive. “Let a guy down easy, would ya?”

A warm hand reaches across the table and squeezes Dean’s shoulder. “I didn’t say I didn’t think him handsome. Objectively speaking, he is. I always knew that. I’m not  _ blind _ , but there was never any attraction. I wasn’t interested in  _ him _ .”

The way Cas emphasizes the last word has Dean’s stomach twisting tightly (though not unpleasantly). If he weren’t a coward, he’d ask about it. Make Cas say explicitly what they’re both dancing around.

But Dean is  _ definitely _ a coward, at least when it comes to this, so he says nothing.

Cas only lets the conversation fall for a moment before he’s raising a curious eyebrow. “What about your Jimmy?” Dean wants to protest about the  _ your _ part, but Cas keeps going. “Have you ever been attracted to him?”

“No,” Dean says automatically. It’s a lie, but only partly. If he’s being honest with himself (and he rarely is about  _ this _ part of his and Jimmy’s relationship), there’s a little spark of something there. There have been plenty of times over the years he’s caught himself staring at his best friend and thinking things he probably shouldn’t be. He always shut those thoughts down as soon as he caught them, too worried about making things weird between them. 

“Really?” Cas eyes him suspiciously, as if he can read Dean’s thoughts. 

(…  _ Can _ he? Dean doesn’t know enough about this magic stuff to be sure, though he thinks even if Cas  _ could _ , he  _ wouldn’t _ without permission.)

“Well…” This  _ isn’t _ Jimmy he’s talking to; it’s Cas. Cas and Jimmy will never meet. Hell, Cas won’t ever meet anyone who has even a remote connection to Jimmy. He’s safe. “Maybe, uh… maybe a bit,” Dean admits, then hastily adds, “We’re friends though. I don’t wanna ruin that, so it’s not like I plan on acting on it.”

The implication that lies underneath is clear: Dean is also attracted to Castiel, but there’s no childhood friendship there to act as a barrier. 

There’s nothing stopping Dean from acting on the attraction, and now they both know it.

Cas’ lips twitch slightly, pleased or annoyed or just a coincidence, and he mercifully changes the subject. 

“Would you like to learn some more spells today? I fear there’s nothing else for me to offer you today, aside from my general melancholy.”

“Oh c’mon, Cas. You’ve got plenty to offer. You forgot to mention the biscuits and the nice house.” Cas chuckles deep in his throat, something decidedly not Jimmy but damn sexy; Dean forces himself to focus on each word so he doesn’t start babbling like a fool. “But yes, I  _ definitely _ want to learn some more spells.”

“Very well.” Cas pushes up from his seat. “Shall we?”


	7. Chapter 6

**** Charlie >> dude you missed our bro-unch this sunday and then i hear you were downtown instead?? what gives!?

Charlie >> i’m not mad (okay i’m a little mad) but i’m seriously worried

Charlie >> call me??

 

Benny >> what the hell

Benny >> i just saw you walk across four lanes of BUSY TRAFFIC

Benny >> didn’t even flinch

Benny >> not sure if i’m impressed or worried you’re on bath salts

 

Jo >> mom and i saw you outside of town but you were kind of dickish

Jo >> also weird clothes

Jo >> mom wants me to ask what’s up

Jo >> but really i just wanna know where you got that necklace you were wearing

Jo >> it was kinda baller

 

Sam >> garth told me he saw you larping as a mage. a mage, dean.

Sam >> you know being a mage is my thing

Sam >> i’ll only forgive you if you plan telling me how you did those spells

Sam >> garth said they looked real

 

Jimmy >> i asked your TA

Jimmy >> you’ve missed five classes this semester

Jimmy >> you didn’t miss five classes all of undergrad

Jimmy >> wtf you got a secret boyfriend? girlfriend?

Jimmy >> or is this you getting high and seeing Cas???

Jimmy >> … okay that last one was out of line but seriously this isn’t like you

 

Dean sighs as he scrolls through his recent messages. There are only so many apologies he’s had to make recently, so many weird things he’s had to brush off. His friends go along with it, mostly, but he can tell they’re just humoring him. They know something’s up.

Their worry is endearing, but it doesn’t ease the pit of anxiety growing inside Dean. Michael is here, is making himself known little by little, and apparently he’s already figured out how to do magic here. 

Time is running out.

~ ~ ~

“I’m here for hours at a time,” Dean rants as soon as he gets into Cas’ study. Cas seems mildly surprised to see him there, but doesn’t interrupt his tirade. Good. Dean’s got a lot to get out. “None of your friends have found Michael  _ or _ anyone working for him. I get texts from my friends  _ constantly _ telling me they’ve seen me here or there, doing this or that. Now I got my brother telling me Michael’s already able to do magic in my world. I come here, sit around or play mage with you, and then go home no closer to having this shit taken care of.

“Never mind that Michael keeps  _ watching _ me. I can’t look at myself in the mirror anymore now that I know it’s him looking back at me. Look at this!” He motions to the scruff on his face, weeks worth of beard he’s too chickenshit to shave off without a mirror. “I look like a friggin bear!”

He can feel his cheeks heating up and his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It feels good to get it out, but now he’s embarrassed that he let Cas see how worked up he is. 

“You done?” Cas asks coolly.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” With practiced ease, Cas stands up from his desk. Now that Dean’s got a good look, he can see that Cas is in full armor. He moves so fluidly, Dean can’t help but wonder how often Cas wears it. “Balthazar contacted me today. He’s found a possible location for Michael’s hideout. Obviously, with you here, Michael won’t be there, which makes this the perfect time to strike. If we can set ourselves up to ambush him upon his return.”

“Oh. Well, now I feel like an asshole for yelling at you.” 

Cas places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t. I’ve vented similar frustrations lately. And you were completely right, we’ve put in so much time for no result. Now is our chance to act. Come, let’s get you some armor and defensive talismans.”

“Armor?” Dean squeaks. “Defensive talismans? I’m going in with you?”

“Of course.” Cas frowns. “Dean, we need you there. Your aura will help me pinpoint the areas Michael uses the most frequently. Besides, if you suddenly disappear, we know to expect Michael at any moment. You’re crucial to this mission.”

Being crucial to a mission was kind of Dean’s dream a few months ago. Something to make him important and unique. Now it makes his hands clammy and his knees weak. He could die.

Dying? Decidely  _ not _ cool.

… Letting Michael win was even  _ less _ cool. Guess it was armor and fighting for him after all.

“Alright,” he says with as much bravado as he can muster. “But I want a sword or some cool dagger.”

“I’m sure I can find you something. Oh and Dean? I think the beard is a good look. Makes you look very…”

“Rugged?” Dean offers. 

“ _ Not _ Michael. But yes, rugged too.”

“A rugged Not Michael. I can get behind that.”

~ ~ ~

Dean expected a trip on horseback or maybe by carriage. Something appropriately medieval.

What he gets was Cas putting two fingers to his forehead and then the world reshaping around him. No longer in Cas’ armory, they’re both outside a large stone gate, crickets chirping in the night air and a large group standing hand in hand at the gate. 

Cas spares a reassuring smile Dean’s way, then joins his friends. 

It takes Dean a moment to regain his bearings. It’s like he’s been in free fall and all of a sudden has to walk on solid ground again. He’s disoriented and still nervous about this whole plan, and those things together make him want to hurl his dinner. 

Instead he sinks gracelessly to his knees and manages to calm his breathing. He’s sweating profusely, a cold sweat that makes him shiver, but he’s starting to feel better.

“Can’t handle apparating, huh?” Meg teases from the wall. Even with her back to him, he can perfectly imagine the smug look on her face. 

“Bite me,” he snaps back. Dean’s annoyed that he sounds winded and not at all intimidating. 

Meg looks over her shoulder and smirks at him. Her eyes are pitch black, the air around her cackling with energy, and Dean feels suddenly small and out of his element. Whatever Meg is—sorceress, mage, enchantress, demon—she’s leaps and bounds out of Dean’s league. She could probably tear him apart with a flick of her wrist. 

What the hell does that say about  _ Michael _ and what  _ he _ can do?

“Don’t worry, grasshopper,” Meg says as she turns back to the wall. “Your boyfriend and the rest of us’ll keep you safe.”

It says a lot about Dean’s mental state that he can’t muster up the energy to protest that Cas is  _ not _ his boyfriend.

… Or to ask why the hell she’s calling him grasshopper.

Dean hangs back from the group of mages. The one time he tries to get closer, it feels like there’s an invisible barrier trying to push him back. If they’re doing some sort of magic to break into Michael’s stronghold, the last thing Dean wants to do is get in the way. He watches, occasionally catching a glimpse of Meg and Ruby’s dark eyes or the glowing blue of Cas and Balthazar.

Should he be worried that Hannah isn’t there?

Just as Dean’s starting to get antsy, the ground starts shaking. Not a lot, barely enough for him to notice, but then cracks start to appear along the wall and gate. Symbols which were invisible seconds ago begin to glow a faint yellow, then brighter and brighter until there’s an explosion of light from them. They split apart and fade into nothingness, and with the last one’s disappearance, the gate bursts open on its hinges. 

“Good work,” Cas says as he draws his swords. The others follow suit, though each has a different weapon. Balthazar a spear, Meg a machete, and Ruby a dagger, while the other nameless mages that Dean doesn’t recognize at all have mostly war hammers and axes. 

A little delayed, Dean clumsily pulls out his own sword. It’s heavy and feels awkward in his hand, not at all like the wood one he uses at Moondoor; he hopes he won’t have to use it. 

No orders are given, but the mages pair up and enter the grounds. It’s deathly quiet, even the crickets have gone silent, and Dean shivers in the moonlight. He’s got a bad feeling about this. 

“Stay with me,” Cas says as he motions Dean forward. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“I can keep myself safe,” he says weakly, then conjures a fireball in his hand to prove it. It’s small and doesn’t give off as much heat as the blue ones Cas casts, but it’s something. 

“I know,” Cas says softly. “All the same, please stay close. This is my mess I’ve gotten you in, and it’s my responsibility to make sure I get you back out of it.”

Dean feels his cheeks heat up. He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he storms ahead into the stronghold, Cas right on his heels.

The place is dark and dreary. If Dean had to describe the stereotypical evil wizard’s lair, this would be it. From the moth eaten tapestries on the walls to the weird, probably cursed decorations in every room, it screams  _ Get the hell out of here! _ Dean puts on a brave face and tries not to make it  _ too _ obvious that he’s standing closer than necessary to Cas. 

Occasionally they’ll hear the sounds of the others in a distant part of the stronghold. Footsteps or incantations echoing off the walls. They find no sign of Michael, or even his lackeys, and Cas grows more tense with each room they inspect. 

“I don’t understand,” Cas grumbles in frustration. “All the signs said he was here. This place looks abandoned. There should be  _ something _ —”

A low growl fills the room. Both Cas and Dean whirl around to face it. In the dark corners, glowing red eyes watch them. 

“Fuck,” Cas hisses, his sword raised. “Stay behind me.”

“What? Why—?”

Three large black dogs step out of the shadows. They’re  _ huge _ , more like wolves or bears than dogs. Dean can imagine those jaws clamping down and bones snapping easily underneath. They lick their chops as they circle closer, and Dean unconsciously takes a step back. 

“Incendio!” Cas yells as he throws a fireball at the largest of the dogs. It hits the beast square on the nose, and it howls and paws at the injury. Dean still has his fireball cast, and he does the same, aiming at one of the smaller dogs. 

All it does is seem to make the dog angry.

Shit.

It turns right towards Dean (though thankfully the other two seem more interested in Cas, who can probably handle himself a lot better than Dean can). Dean snaps his fingers, hoping for another fireball.

Nothing happens.

He snaps them again. 

Still nothing. 

Getting desperate, he starts backing away from the dog and snapping like crazy. Only a small flame comes to life in his hand. It grows steadily but not nearly fast enough. The dog stops walking, instead pushing back on its legs to lunge.

Dean throws the fireball at the dog, hopes he hits it in the face, and turns to run. 

He gets about ten feet before he’s tackled from behind.

Pain blossoms on his back and he cries out from it. Not a scream or a wail, just a startled yelp. The claws pierce the armor he’s wearing like it’s nothing, and Dean knows he’s fucked if he just lays here. He could crawl away and try to run again, but he’s pretty sure that’ll hurt too much to be effective.

Alright, so flight is out. Guess it’s fight.

He gets as good a grip as he can on his sword and forces his way onto his back. The dog gets one good swipe across his chest—and it hurts worse than anything dean’s felt in his life, holy fuck—but then Dean stabs blindly upward. He feels the blade hit flesh and that flesh start to give, and he pushes with all his might. The dog makes a terrible noise, then its teeth are going right for Dean’s throat.

In a moment of inspiration, Dean snaps his fingers and  _ finally _ gets a decent fireball. Going on instinct, he shoves the fireball right into the dog’s mouth. The dog howls and then jumps away. Dean’s finally free, but it takes all his energy to roll over and watch as the dog writhes in pain before stumbling to the ground and finally staying down. 

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, his hand on Dean doing nothing but making Dean gasp in agony. “You aren’t alright. Stay still.”

Now Cas’ touch radiates a numbing warmth, and Dean relaxes back to the ground. 

“Rest.” Cas’ voice comes to him as though through a veil. “I’ll take care of you.”

~ ~ ~

He drifts in and out of consciousness after that, but he gets the gist of it. 

The attack on the stronghold was successful in that they’ve taken control. They think Michael hasn’t been here in over a day, which is bad news, but they’ve recovered more of his notes. The place was crawling with hellhounds, and damn if that isn’t an apt name for those behemoth dogs, but only Dean was seriously hurt.

Embarrassing. 

As soon as he can, Cas is back at Dean’s side. He places two gentle fingers on Dean’s forehead and  _ POOF! _ they’re back at Cas’ home. 

“I’m going to take off the numbing spell now. It will hurt, but it’s the only way to properly clean and bandage your injuries. Do you understand?”

Dean tries to nod. He thinks he manages it.

The warning does little good. As soon as the magic warmth dissipates, all the pain comes back seemingly tenfold, as though he’s feeling everything he missed now in a more condensed form. 

It’s all he can do not to whimper. 

Not that Cas seems to judge him for it. He carefully helps Dean up and does his best not to touch his back or chest on the way to the bathroom. 

The room isn’t much, just a porcelain tub with faucets leading to it and an armoire off to the side. Still, it feels like heaven to sit on the edge of the tub. It might not have been a long walk, but Dean’s exhausted.

“Take off your armor and shirt. I’ll clean the wounds and bind them for you.”

“You don’t have any sort of… magic you could use instead?” Dean asks warily as he undresses. Everything sticks a little to the bloody patches running along his chest and he winces when he finally pulls the material free.

“The soap is medicinal and so is the ointment I’ll use afterwards, but no, there’s no magic spell that will allow me to wave away your injuries. This will speed up the process, I promise… but it will still hurt for several days. Magic is powerful, but it isn’t all serving.”

“Of fucking course it isn’t.” Dean sits there, fists clenching the edges of the bathtub just to ground himself. 

“Stay still,” Castiel warns as he works some soap into a lather. Dean watches a few bubbles float away and pop before reaching the ceiling. “This will hurt.”

“Go ahead, I’m ready.”

He isn’t ready, but there’s no point waiting. It hurts just sitting there, so it’s not like the alternative is any better.

Cleaning his cuts, it definitely hurts. It slowly gets better once Cas is done with the soap and moves onto the ointment. The cream soothes and cools his feverish skin, and by the time Cas is wrapping gauze loosely over his chest, Dean’s able to focus on other things again.

Like how close Cas is. How Dean can feel his calloused hands all over him, strong but gentle as they work. Or how Dean can smell Cas’ musky scent, so masculine and inviting. Or how all it would take is for him to lean forward a few inches and steal a kiss of those lovely, chapped lips… 

“Dean,” Cas whispers. He’s still very close, but now it seems he’s also realized it. They’re breathing each other’s air, waiting for the other to make a move and hoping,  _ praying _ for them to do it. 

“Cas,” Dean answers back. Oh how he  _ wants _ to kiss Cas. It’d be good. So  _ so _ good. 

“May I…?” Cas ventures. 

Dean nods in invitation, even tilts his head a little. He can scarcely breath as Cas closes the gap between them— 

And then there’s a pull at his navel. The world goes out of focus and then back in. A familiar  _ POP! _ rings in Dean’s ears, and he knows the moment’s ruined.

“Fuck,” Dean growls as he punches his pillow. Back on his bed, but alone. Great. Exactly how he wanted this night to go. “Fuck!” he says more loudly, though this time he throws the pillow as hard as he can. It knocks over a lamp, because of course it does. Why would  _ anything _ , even his tantrum, go right?

“Hey, you okay?”

Dean whirls around to see Jimmy in his doorway. Jimmy, who looks half asleep and absolutely gorgeous with his bedhead and that  _ stupid _ Bugs Bunny shirt Dean got him in  _ middle school _ for fuck’s sake. 

“Shit, Dean.” Jimmy marches inside and starts poking at Dean’s bandages. “What the fuck  _ happened _ ?”

It’s too much. Jimmy this close after losing that moment with Cas… He’s worked up and his body craves an outlet. There are alarms blaring in his head, shouting at him how stupid this is. BAD IDEA BAD IDEA ABORT! ABORT!

Too bad he’s already moving. 

He grabs Jimmy’s face, his touch a little too rough and not nearly as tender as Jimmy deserves, and he pulls him in for a kiss. It’s electric, full of years of potential that’s finally trying to be tapped.

Jimmy doesn’t kiss back, though. 

“Jimmy?” Dean asks. He pulls away enough to take in Jimmy’s shell-shocked face, his eyes wide with shock and his breathing shallow. “Did I…? Should I stop…?”

That gets Jimmy’s attention. Jimmy jerks his head out of Dean’s grasp, then lunges at Dean. He presses his lips firmly to Dean’s, and it takes Dean all of a nanosecond to get on board and melt into the kiss. 

It escalates far too quickly from there. Dean’s skin is on fire. He’s filled with need, desperate with want, and it makes him stupid. He doesn’t think it through when he starts sucking a hickey on Jimmy’s neck. Or when he helps Jimmy pull off his shirt. There’s absolutely no thinking involved when he pushes Jimmy onto his bed and crawls over him. 

There will consequences for this, big ones, but Dean’s drunk on desire and right now, he simply doesn’t care.

They rut against each other, desperate and needy. Dean’s so lost, he can’t even remember if it’s Jimmy or Cas under him. He wants both, needs both, so what does it matter?

Dean gasps into Jimmy’s mouth as he comes in his pants. Jimmy follows soon after. They stay there, exhausted and completely unsure of where things go from here. Now that their minds are clearing, there’s definitely room to realize this was a mistake.

Jimmy doesn’t seem any more eager than Dean does to talk about it. He manhandles Dean so they’re lying next to each other on the bed and begins to languidly kiss Dean. Dean sighs, his body relaxing and his mind going mercifully blank; he enjoys the sensations of it, the closeness. 

“Cas,” Dean sighs as he nips at Jimmy’s bottom lip. 

Jimmy freezes, and in that instant Dean remembers how colossally stupid this whole thing was. 

“What the fuck?” Jimmy asks as he pushes Dean away. “Did you just call me Cas?”

Dean winces. “Yes?”

“Fake Me? Were you thinking about him while we...?”

Dean’s quiet as he considers how to answer that. He certainly thought of Jimmy… but he can’t deny that he was thinking of Cas, too.

“Shit.” Jimmy pushes off the bed and paces around. “So you were just using me for a convenient fuck since you can’t get with Cas? Who probably isn’t even a real person but some weird fantasy you’ve conjured up! I’m fucking second place to some drugged out hallucination!”

“It’s not like that!” Dean protests. Jimmy stops walking and levels a glare at him. Okay, not the time to get into a Cas is real argument. That leaves Jimmy’s real concern: Dean only kissed him because it was convenient. That’s… unfortunately more true than he’d like to admit. “It’s not… It’s not  _ completely _ like that—”

“Un-fucking-believable!” Jimmy throws his hands up and then grabs at his hair. “I’ve been in love with you for half my fucking life, and now we finally…” He waves vaguely between them. “And you were just using me because you can’t get with the guy you really want to fuck?”

The color drains from Dean’s face. He knows his own feelings are a little murky when it comes to Jimmy, but part of him hoped that Jimmy wasn’t invested in this. Apparently that was a miscalculation on his part. A huge one.

“Wait, what? You’re— you’re in love with me? I fucking… I start figuring out and admitting that I have feelings for you, and this…  _ this _ is how I find out—”

“How dare you,” Jimmy snarls as he pokes dean squarely in the chest. “Don’t you fucking dare pretend you give a shit about me right now.”

“... Jimmy, c’mon. I know I fucked up, but you can’t really think I don’t care about you—”

“No, Dean, we’re done. We are  _ not _ having this conversation right now while I’m upset and covered in come. I’m leaving.”

Dean watches in horror as Jimmy storms out of his room. He feels like such an asshole, he doesn’t even bother to stop Jimmy when he hears him slam the apartment door a few minutes later. 

His life is completely fucked, and he doesn’t even have Michael to blame for it.


	8. Chapter 7

**** Dean doesn’t sleep that night, or at least he doesn’t sleep well. He tosses and turns, his mind going a mile a minute, and it’s all he can do not to go to Jimmy’s room and curl up in his bed instead.

He doesn’t think that would go over well if Jimmy came back and found him there, so he doesn’t even try it. 

Morning comes and Dean makes himself coffee. He’ll be caffeinating all day, he can feel it already; the first sip doesn’t make him feel better, and the empty kitchen and quiet apartment only make it worse.

He hates how much he fucked up. He hates how much he’s hurt Jimmy, and that he can’t go after him right now, because Jimmy absolutely has the right to his own space right now. Dean took too much, and now he has to wait for Jimmy to come to him on his own terms. 

He just hopes they’ll be able to salvage their friendship. He’s pretty sure he fucked up whatever chance they might have at something more. 

_ Jimmy said he’s in love with me. We could’ve been together this  _ **_whole time_ ** _ —  _

_ Where would that leave Cas, though? _

Though part of him wants to agonize over the decision, there’s no point. Not until he talks to Jimmy. Or Cas. 

_ What do I even say to them— _

_ Just stop. _

Throwing himself into his classes and work does the trick. With his impromptu visits to Cas eating up more and more of his time, he’s fallen behind in pretty much everything. There’s more than enough to keep his mind occupied… even if he does find himself thinking wistfully about his best friend.

And the man who looks just like him.

~ ~ ~

Dean gives Jimmy two days to vent, and then he starts getting worried. 

They’ve fought before. They’ve had a bunch of little fights throughout their friendship, and a couple really big ones. Even then, when they were in the middle of a silent war about John Winchester’s drinking or Jimmy’s toxic relationship with April, they didn’t shut the other out completely. The fact that Dean hasn’t so much as  _ heard _ from Jimmy has his imagination going on overdrive.

_ Did Michael do something…? _

His gut says no, but he can’t rule out the possibility. 

Halfway through the third day, Dean gives up on his resolution to give Jimmy space. Space would be fine. No contact? Nope, Dean can’t handle that. If he could just  _ see _ Jimmy, make sure he’s okay, he’d back off and let him be.

The problem? 

Jimmy won’t answer his phone or respond to Dean’s texts. Fine, Dean can try going through Jo or Charlie or Sam, except  _ they _ all refuse to say more than “he’s fine.” 

Dean’s about ready to storm into Jimmy’s classes, even looks up his schedule for the day so he  _ can _ , when a familiar pull at his navel makes him realize the futility of that plan.

“Fucking hell,” he gasps and rushes to grab his phone. Jimmy’s number goes right to voicemail, and Dean fights against the insistent feeling of disappearing molecule by molecule to get a message through. 

“Hey Jimmy,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna be hard to get in touch with for a couple hours, but I’d really like to talk when you get a chance. I know I fucked up, I know that. I’d just like a chance to apologize face to face and—”

The world blacks out and then barely comes back into focus.

He’s in a dark room, not even a fire to help him figure out where he is. 

Great. Fucking perfect.

He finds Cas in his drawing room, reading a book by a large fire that makes Dean unreasonably upset that he landed in some cold, dark, forgotten room upstairs.

“You don’t keep fucking lights on in your house?”

Cas raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t meet Dean’s anger with any anger of his own. “It is a waste of supplies to keep unoccupied rooms lit, as well as the time of my household staff to maintain the fires,” he says evenly. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Dean knows he sounds borderline hysterical, squeaky voice and movements jerky as he storms further into the room. “I’m pissed because I fucked things up with my best friend and now I’m stuck  _ here _ and can’t try to fix things!”

Cas looks stunned by Dean’s outburst. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says so gently that Dean feels like even more of an ass for taking out his frustration on Cas. “I wish I knew how to send you back or could in any way offer assistance—”

“It’s fine,” Dean interrupts, mostly because it’s ridiculous that Dean’s the one being an ass but Cas is the one apologizing. Who is he kidding, both Jimmy and Cas are way too good for him? “Not your fault.”

“Perhaps not, but if I  _ can _ help, please don’t hesitate to tell me how.”

“I fucked things up, I gotta fix them. Besides, you’re not exactly Jimmy’s favorite person right now.”

“He knows I exist?” Cas seems genuinely startled.

“Why wouldn’t he? I told him about coming here. He thinks I’m losing my goddamn mind, which honestly, maybe I am, but he knows about it.”

Cas is quiet, his expression unreadable. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been close enough to someone that I’ve told them everything, even the ‘silly things’ that they wouldn’t believe. Looking back, I don’t know if even Michael and I were ever truly that close. There were things I held back, and clearly there was even more that he did.”

“I’m sorry.” He can’t even imagine losing his best friend, never mind finding out they weren’t as close as he’d always thought. 

_ That’s not true. The last couple days, I’ve gotten a pretty good idea of what it’ll be like to lose Jimmy. And maybe we  _ **_aren’t_ ** _ as close as I think. He never said he was in love with me, and I never said I was open to more. We both kept that stuff quiet, like it would ruin us. _

_ And now it is. _

“Ugh, this got depressing real quick. You got any booze and news on Michael?”

“Plenty of the former, and very little on the latter. Let’s head to the study. I want to check your wounds to make sure they’re healing properly, and I have a few papers to show you…”

Checking his wounds doesn’t take long. They’re healing nicely, especially between whatever magic gunk Cas put on him and his own self-medicating at home. They sting for sure, but they look way better than they have any right to. 

“Good,” Cas says with an approving nod. “Now that I’m convinced you won’t keel over and die, let’s take a look at what we found.”

An inventory of everything they’d found when they’d raided Michael, a list of his followers that they’ve been able to narrow down and mostly capture, and several spells Cas hopes will be helpful in their future plans. It’s an impressive amount of information, even if Dean only really understands about half of it. Cas is excited by the progress, and that’s good enough for Dean.

“That’s the fifth time you’ve yawned.”

Dean blinks and looks at Cas. “Huh?”

Cas starts gathering the papers, the barest hint of a smile softening his otherwise gloomy expression. “You’re tired. I have a guest room you can use. I doubt you’ll be here much longer, it’s already been a couple hours, but there’s no reason for you to trouble yourself staying awake.”

“I’m not—” Another yawn interrupts him. Dean groans and gives up. He wipes a hand over his face and nods. “Yeah, sleep sounds good. Maybe I’ll get lucky and just reappear in my own bed.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“Uh… reappearing in my living room on the floor somewhere? No clue.”

“Well, as long as you won’t reappear in the middle of a road, I think we can chance your luck as is.”

The guest room is on the third floor, a part of the house Dean’s never seen before. The rest of the house feels perhaps old-fashioned but never empty; there’s the hustle and bustle of people going about, the light is soft and inviting, and the decorations chosen with care. It feels lived in, which is a far cry from the third floor. Dean can’t pinpoint what’s different—same style of decorations, same candlelit hallways—but it feels emptier here.

Lonely, maybe. 

Dean doesn’t comment on it, or on how a maid needs to come up and change out the dusty old sheets for new ones. It’s not like he and Jimmy have a lot of guests either, so who is he to judge? They don’t even have a guest room, just a lumpy pull out sofa. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says softly once they’re alone. He’s suddenly overcome with the memory of how his last trip here ended, with the space between them warm and so much potential in the air. If he’d stayed a couple minutes longer, he has no doubt he would’ve kissed Cas.

Or Cas would’ve kissed him.

It feels the same now. Untapped potential and the two of them dancing around it. An empty bed… 

Dean sighs, and turns away from Cas to toe off his shoes. “G’night,” he says and hopes he doesn’t sound too gruff or dismissive. 

There’s a moment of silence, then the sound of Cas’ footsteps crossing the room. “Good night, Dean,” he says gently before closing the door.

As much as Dean wants to explore that unnamed something between him and Cas, right now he can’t do it without thinking about how much he hurt Jimmy. He needs to fix that and find out where the two of them stand before he can even  _ think _ about starting something with Cas.

… Truth be told, he should probably come clean to Cas about Jimmy. It’s a shitty way to start a relationship by holding back stuff like that, not that he’s sure he and Cas even  _ can _ have a relationship. The attraction’s there, he’s sure of it, but they’re supposed to be saving the world. Hell, they’re  _ from _ different worlds. Where the hell do they have time or the means to be together? 

“I hate this,” Dean groans as he crawls under the covers. The comforter is fluffy and warm, probably full of down, and the pillows are almost as good as his memory foam. Dean wonders vaguely if there’s some sort of magic involved. Probably. This whole world’s got magic. At least he’ll be able to fall asleep quickly.

If he’s lucky, he won’t spend too much time worrying about Cas, Jimmy, Michael, and the boring ol’ problems like work and school.

~ ~ ~

Dean dreams very distinctly of Lawrence. It’s strange, knowing he’s dreaming but still being along for the ride. Shouldn’t he be able to control it if he knows it’s a dream? His doesn’t quite keep focus on the thread of the dream, but at one point he even thinks Jimmy’s there, too. He looks so sad that Dean’s heart just about breaks. He wants to go forward, to comfort his friend…

Instead he turns his back to him and walks away.

Dean wakes with a jolt.

There’s light peeking in through the curtains, but the room is unfamiliar. He doesn’t understand where he is, and it’s not until he’s stumbled out of bed that he realizes two terrible things: it’s still morning… and he’s still in Cas’ world. 

Shit.

None of his trips have lasted this long. Not  _ one _ . He should be back home by now. It should be another few days at least until he’s back, yet here he is.

He scrambles to get his shoes and rushes out the door to find Cas. 

Cas is sitting at his small dining table, eating cheese and bread for breakfast and drinking what smells like fresh coffee. He startles slightly when he sees Dean, but immediately stands up to greet him.

“You’re back already?” He frowns when he takes in Dean’s sleep ruffled appearance. “You’re still here,” Cas says in wide-eyed surprise. “You never left.”

“I don’t think so,” Dean agrees. “Fell asleep in your guest room, woke up in your guest room. This is bad, right?”

“It’s not good,” Cas hedges.

“What does this mean?”

“Do you want reassurances that I only half belief or the harsh truth?”

“ _ Cas _ .”

Cas sighs and pulls out a chair for Dean. A servant is already bringing in a second plate for him, and Dean begrudgingly accepts both. He doesn’t bother eating, though. He’s pretty sure he’s about to lose his appetite.

“If you’re here, it’s entirely possible that Michael has found a way to  _ stay _ in your world. Since only one of you can exist there at a time, his continued presence there will effectively bar you from ever returning. Unless, of course, we can draw him back here.”

“Okay, then let’s do that.”

“I don’t know that I  _ can _ do that. I know plenty of summoning spells, but they wouldn’t work on Michael even if he were here. The fact that he’s on another plane of existence make them less than worthless. There are a number of banishing spells that  _ could _ theoretically work at sending him back here, but they would require me to actually  _ be _ there. From here…” Cas sighs and picks at a piece of bread halfheartedly. “From here I could maybe communicate with Michael. It’s doubtful I could convince him to give up his plans.”

“So that’s it? Game over? We were too slow and now Michael’s walking around out there in Lawrence, screwing over my world?”

Cas looks genuinely upset, though as usual he holds his temper better than Dean. “It would appear so—”

“Wait,” Dean interrupts. A spark of inspiration’s running through his mind, and it takes all his effort to pin down the idea. “You said you could banish him from my world back here? If you were there, I mean?”

“Yes,” Cas says slowly. “Though I’m not sure how that’s relevant or useful—”

“Shhh. Would you be able to use magic in my world? Or would it take you time to figure that out?”

“Probably it would take some time, though if Michael’s already put in the effort of using magic there, he might have broken a seal that will make it easier for other magic wielders. If I used talismans to help amplify my power—”

“Okay, good. Could you use Michael’s notes or whatever to  _ get _ to my world?”

“Most likely—”

“And if you  _ did _ get there, would you be able to stay? Or would it be slow like it was when Michael started going and you’d boop back over here?”

There’s a hint of understanding in his eyes. “I’m unsure. Michael’s notes suggest that if our counterparts on the otherwise are  _ willing _ to let us stay, that the swap is easier. I at first wondered why Michael never bothered to make contact with you, but I assumed it was his own arrogance that he could simply  _ force _ you out—”

“So there  _ is _ a way to contact people on the other side?”

“Mirrors are bridges between worlds, so yes, contact is poss—”

“Great. I know what we’re gonna do.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?”

Dean smiles wide. “We’re gonna call Jimmy.”


	9. Chapter 8

**** The preparation for contacting Jimmy is surprisingly simple. Labor intensive, but simple. 

Cas finds the biggest mirror in his house, of course, this large oval thing on its own stand. It’s hidden in the attic and takes three of them to carry it down to the main floor. 

“Seven years bad luck a thing around here?” Dean grunts as he helps round a corner. 

“Yes,” Cas grumbles back. “But considering how important this is to our plans, I’d say that if we broke it, we’d have more than bad luck to worry about.”

They manage to get the mirror into Cas’ parlor. While Dean pushes all the furniture aside, Cas goes about drawing a magic circle around it and getting all the necessary spell ingredients around it. 

“Have you ever used mirrors to spy on Jimmy? Before now, I mean?”

Cas looks suddenly sheepish, an unusual look for the mage. “I have not, though I have been tempted. I can see how different you are from Michael, and I’ve found myself wondering about how I would compare to your friend. Getting a glimpse into your world and your life beyond this place was an added temptation, I’ll admit.” 

“So what made you not bother trying?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure this will even work,” Cas confesses after the final candle has been lit. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to contact him at all… or that I’ll be able to trade places with him… This could be a dead end.”

“Hey.” Dean takes Cas by the shoulder and looks him in the eye. “You’re an awesome knight. Ten times the man Michael is. So if he can do this,  _ you _ can do this.” He gives a big squeeze and then lets go. “You got this.”

The pep talk does its job; Cas’ expression hardens into steel and he takes his place in front of the mirror. 

In a language Dean can’t begin to understand or parse, Cas starts chanting. With each word, he draws another chalk sigil onto the mirror itself. Cas’ eyes glow a faint blue, the light growing brighter and brighter as the spell goes on. Dean’s almost blinded by it, takes a step back only to be buffeted by the edges of the magic circle. Remembering Cas’ warning about leaving the circle, Dean swallows thickly and shifts closer to Cas.

When he looks into the mirror, Dean gasps in alarm.

The reflection no longer shows Cas and the parlor or even Dean. It’s definitely Dean’s apartment, and that’s definitely Jimmy staring back at them. He sniffles and rubs at blotchy eyes, and something protective and fierce wells up inside of Dean. Whoever did this to Jimmy’s going to pay— 

_ What if  _ **_I_ ** _ did it to Jimmy? What if he came back to the apartment to talk to me and I wasn’t there? I  _ **_asked_ ** _ him to come and I’m missing. What if I’m the reason he’s crying? _

“Jimmy,” Cas whispers. “Jimmy do you hear me?”

Jimmy doesn’t seem to hear anything. He turns on the faucet and rinses off his face, like he can wash away the hurt and the pain.

“Jimmy,” Cas says more urgently. “Look into the mirror.”

There’s a slight jerk of Jimmy’s head, craning his neck like he’s trying to pick out a faraway sound. Then he shrugs it off and starts drying off his face. For all his hard work, he doesn’t look any less like he’s spent the last hour crying. 

“Jimmy,” Dean growls. “Look in the damn mirror!”

That gets his attention. Jimmy whirls around and stares wide-eyed at the mirror. His eyes trace it up and down, but he clearly sees nothing.

Cas nudges Dean forward. “I’ve established the link but he apparently has more of a connection to you. Talk to him. Once you strengthen the line, he should be able to hear me too.”

“Me?” he squeaks and tries to pull away. “He’s still pissed at me.”

“Yes,  _ you _ . It has to be you. Whether he’s upset or not, you’re his best friend. If you want to do this  _ now _ , you have to do it, otherwise we’ll have to wait for me to slowly build up an unconscious rapport with him. Now stop whining and  _ talk _ .”

Dean’s face to face with Jimmy, who’s seeming to lose interest in the mirror and any voices he may or may not be hearing. He doesn’t want to bother his friend, doesn’t feel like he has the right to right now, but this is bigger than both of them. Once they stop Michael, Dean can spend the rest of his life begging Jimmy for forgiveness.

“Jimmy?” Dean says, his hand hesitantly reaching for the mirror. The air around its smooth surface is glacial, so he pulls back awkwardly. “Jimmy, it’s me. It’s Dean.”

With eyes narrowed at the mirror, he looks uncannily like Cas. 

Weird.

“Dean?” he says cautiously, like he’s not convinced he’s not crazy.

His breath escapes him in a rush. “Thank god you can hear me. Jimmy, I’m in trouble.”

“... Are you stuck in the mirror or something? Because honestly, that’s above my paygrade—”

“I am stuck, and kind of in the mirror but uh… it’s more complicated than that.” Dean licks his lips. He doesn’t want to say this next part. “I’m with Cas.”

Jimmy’s whole expression darkens at the name. “Cas,” he practically spits. “You’re with  _ Cas _ —?”

“Dude, you have every right to be angry. I get that. You can be angry at me from now until the end of time if that’s what it takes, but I need you to listen  _ now _ . Please, gimme five minutes. Tell me our friendship’s worth five minutes.”

Jimmy looks absolutely livid. “That's low, Dean. That’s super manipulative, you know that?”

“Look, I’m not proud—”

“Five minutes. Go.”

Dean's heart thumps loudly in his chest, so loud he can barely hear his own voice as he speaks. He stammers his way through an explanation, magical takeovers lead by evil doppelgangers and everything he's seen in Cas’ world. It takes him a bit to hit his stride and by the end he knows he's well gone over five minutes. 

Jimmy doesn’t say a word. Not even after Dean stops talking, it’s so silent Dean would worry the connection was broken if not for the crystal clear image of Jimmy in the mirror.

“So let’s pretend I believe you.” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t. “What would you want me to do?”

Dean turns to Cas. 

“He’d have to put his hand to the mirror to establish a more physical connection which I could then use to trade places with him. Temporarily,” he hastily adds. “Only long enough to force Michael back to this plane of existence.”

“Did you get that?” Dean asks.

“Get  _ what _ ?”

“Still not hearing Cas,” Dean grumbles. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. He gets this crazy idea of the two of them gossiping about him behind his back, sharing embarrassing story about frat parties or magic mishaps. They’d probably decide he’s not worth the trouble, that he makes a cute pet more than a boyfriend. Hell, maybe they’d even figure out that the other is a far better alternative— 

He shakes his head to clear it. Not the time.

“Okay, so Cas says you just gotta… touch the mirror? And he’ll use that to make a connection between the two of you guys so he can switch places and stop Michael.”

“So I touch the mirror…” Jimmy holds his hand up but keeps it well away from the mirror. “And what? Me and  _ Cas _ switch places?”

“He really does not like me,” Cas whispers. “But yes, we would switch places.”

Dean grunts in answer to Cas. “Yeah, you’d switch places.”

“So while your boy plays hero, I’m stuck in  _ his _ house with  _ you _ ?”

“Jimmy—”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes? I don’t know what you want me to say—”

“So if I wanted to have a real conversation with you, for once in your life you wouldn’t be able to run away?”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, to say that he’s been  _ trying _ to talk to Jimmy for  _ days _ , but even to his own ear, it sounds flat. He wanted to apologize to Jimmy and beg for forgiveness. Having an open talk about feelings? He hadn’t really planned that far through. Yeah, he kind of figured he’d  _ have _ to a little. Something about Jimmy’s glare makes it clear that ‘a little’ wouldn’t cut it. Not now, maybe not ever again. 

“Ugh, yes. If you wanted to talk, there’s not a whole lot I could do about it. God knows I owe you this talk, anyway.”

“You do,” Jimmy confirms. Then he wiggles his fingers and waggles his eyebrows. “Alright  _ Cas _ , looks like we got a deal. You have permission to take my place for a bit while me and Dean chat. But don’t fuck around, okay? I don’t want you ruining the good Jimmy Novak name.”

“I won’t?” Cas’ tone is puzzled but genuine. 

“He says he won’t.”

“Good.” Without further warning, Jimmy places his hand against the mirror. Dean stands aside so Cas can do his thing. He watches in amazement as at first it looks like Cas is touching nothing but the smooth surface of the mirror, then slowly but surely his hand sinks into it. His fingers brush against Jimmy’s, who gasps and tries to pull away, but Cas grabs him by the wrist. Blinding light forces Dean to turn away and shield his eyes.

When the light has faded, not much looks different… except it is very obviously Jimmy standing next to him and Cas on the other side of the mirror.

“What the fuck?” Jimmy whispers, then surges forward to bang on the mirror. It shakes but stays solid, a firm barrier between worlds once again. “This shit  _ worked _ ? Am I tripping balls? I’m tripping balls aren’t I—”

“Calm down.” It’s probably more than he’s allowed right now, but Dean puts a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder to help ground him. “It’s alright.”

“I think it worked,” Cas says slowly, his eyes more focused on the bathroom than the mirror. Dean wonders if Cas can even see them anymore. “I’m going to collect my bearings and then go after Michael. I’ll report back in a few hours, regardless of the outcome. Please stay close to a mirror or some other reflective surface so I can contact you.”

“Will do,” Dean says. The magic aura in the circle fades, the image of Cas slowly shifting back into an actual reflection of the room.

Jimmy just gapes at the mirror. “He looks just like me. A more rugged version of me. What the fuck?”

“More rugged?”

“Dude’s got stubble and the proportions of a Greek god. Definitely more rugged.” Jimmy’s eyes are still wide. “Is that why you like him more?”

“What? I don’t like him more—”

“You wanted to have sex with  _ him _ , and you’ve only known him, like, a few months or something. You’ve  _ never _ wanted to have sex with  _ me _ , and I literally have no childhood memories from before I met you.”

“It’s not like I want him more than I want you—”

“So it’s that you don’t want me at all, but you want him and I was a convenient substitute?”

“ _ Jimmy _ ,” Dean pleads. “It’s not about wanting one of you more than the other. It’s more… knowing Cas let me wrap my head around some stuff. There was enough distance between us that I wasn’t confused by us being friends or any of that, and it helped me see  _ you  _ without that filter.”

“... Dean, what the hell does that  _ mean _ ? Because I feel like it’s easy to interpret that in a way I’d like and in a way I really wouldn’t like. I’m  _ done _ assuming things. I assumed this place—” He waves his arms to indicate Cas’ parlor. “—wasn’t real, and here I am. I assumed when you kissed me, it was  _ me _ you wanted to kiss, and now you’re making it sound like maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. I’m not picking and choosing here, you have to  _ tell me. _ ”

“It’s both. It’s you and it’s Cas. I— Look, I can’t lie and say I’ve never thought about us. It was just something I didn’t  _ let _ myself think about, y’know? It was too dangerous, risking our friendship when I didn’t know where you stood. It wasn’t worth it… until I met Cas. Cas was safe, and I got to imagine things with him… It’s a pretty picture, but it only made me want to imagine things with  _ you _ , too. I just… It’s not you  _ or _ him, it’s both.”

“Both of us?” Jimmy repeats, voice hollow. “Not like… not like one of us as a substitute for the other?”

“I’m  _ so sorry _ about the other night. I know why you think that, I really do, but no. It wasn’t just because it was convenient. It’s like… the closer I get to one of you, the closer I wanna be to the other. 

“So if I asked you to choose…?” Jimmy asks, eyebrows raised. 

A terrible pain seizes his chest. It’s like he can’t breathe. Choosing, that would mean picking one over the other. That’d mean being  _ without _ one of them. Jimmy’s been this fixed part of his life for so long that the idea is unbearable. Cas might not have had years to eek out a place in Dean’s heart, but he has, and Dean knows his life would be emptier without the mage there.

He can’t guess what his expression is, but from the way Jimmy reacts, it can’t be good.

“So no choosing.”

“Jimmy…”

“Whatever,” he says far too casually. “I saw you, you know. I mean, I guess not  _ you _ . Him.”

Dean frowns in confusion before he realizes Jimmy must mean Michael. “Okay…”

“He looks just like you. Different, now that I know I guess. No crinkles around his eyes from laughing and smiling. This look in his eyes like everything was beneath him. I noticed but I figured it was just me pissed at you that made you look different. I’d been thinking of you as a colossal dick for days, so it made sense that you’d  _ look _ like a colossal dick.”

“Did you uh…” Dean swallows, not sure what answer he wants to hear. “Did you talk to him?”

Jimmy snorts and crosses his hands over his chest. “Sort of. I talked a little. Him… not so much.”

Dean stays quiet, hoping Jimmy will elaborate. After an annoyed huff and an overly dramatic eye roll, he does.

“Look, I was obviously hurt. I wanted time to cool down before either of us said or did something stupid. Something that we couldn’t take back. But then I saw you at the park. It was either run away from you or go confront you then and there. And I thought, fuck Dean Winchester. No matter how this ends, I am  _ not _ running away. This is my hometown for fuck’s sake, no one gets to scare me off. So I went up to you…  _ him _ … and…” 

There’s a pained expression on Jimmy’s face, one he can barely hide behind one of his usual smiles. “I was hurt that you’d used me, but at the same time, at least you were trying to talk to me. But he just… he fucking ignored me. Like I was less than dirt to him. And that hurt way more, thinking you were done with me. That I had my chance to be second place and that was all I was ever going to get, and now it was over.”

_ Oh, _ Dean thinks.  _ That’s why he was crying. Because he thought—  _

Without thinking, Dean steps forward and pulls Jimmy into a big, bone crushing hug. Jimmy gasps in surprise and stays stiff for all of two seconds, then he melts into the embrace and holds onto Dean like he’s a life line. 

“I’ve loved you for years, you asshole.” His voice wavers and he sniffles against Dean’s shoulder; Dean just holds him tighter. “You never… you never seemed interested, so I didn’t say anything. The other night, I thought…” There’s a hitch in his breath as Jimmy holds back a sob. He sniffles again, and when he next speaks he sounds much more under control. “I was really happy, and then really not happy. And now I can’t even really be all that mad about it, because apparently you’re trying to help save the world or something—”

“You can still be mad,” Dean says soothingly. “Saving the world or not, if I’m a dick, you can call me a dick.”

“Dick,” Jimmy says emphatically. Even though there’s a slight tremble in his hands, Jimmy breaks the hug so they can look at each other. “Lucky for you I like you enough to forgive you.”

Dean perks up. “Yeah?”

“It’s not going to be easy, Winchester.” He pokes Dean square in the chest. “I’ll forgive you, but we don’t just go back to exactly how things were and we don’t move into something else like friends with benefits or boyfriends. We gotta set boundaries and actually talk like fucking adults. I still gotta figure shit out.  _ You _ still gotta figure shit out. Apparently we have to stop an evil clone of you. All that stuff takes time.”

“Don’t care.” Dean really can’t stop grinning. “You’re gonna forgive me. All I care about right now.”

Jimmy looks away, a shy smile gracing his own features. They were going to be okay. Come what may, their friendship would survive and honestly Dean couldn’t— 

The room explodes in light so blinding Dean turns away from the mirror and shields his eyes once again. There’s a loud crash, the feeling of glass hitting his back, and then a startled (and surprisingly undignified) groan as someone lands on the ground behind him. 

… Cas?


	10. Chapter 9

**** “Ow,” growls Cas’ deep baritone. “That was… unpleasant.”

“What the fuck?” Jimmy cries. “Did the mirror just explode? Come  _ on _ , I know I didn’t believe in this magic shit but that’s no reason for you guys to rub it in!”

“Apologies,” Cas grunts. He’s landed face first on the ground, though thankfully the mirror shattered after he came through.. Dean offers him a hand and Cas gladly accepts it, then dusts himself off. His skin’s paler than when he left, one eye left red and bruised while the other has a jagged cut under it, but overall he doesn’t look all that worse for wear. 

Hopefully.

“What happened?” Dean asks, voice thick. It’s hard going from worrying over Jimmy to Cas with no down time to recover. When the hell will this nightmare end?

“Did you stop Michael?” Jimmy asks hopefully, only to meet with Cas’ apologetic look.

“No, though I did find him. He’s exuding a large amount of magical energy over there, though apparently he’s not able to wield it effectively. Using magic in your world is like trying to run underwater. Possible if you’re willing to put in the effort, but incredibly frustrating.”

Dean guides Cas to a leather armchair, one that looks like it was outside the blast radius, and helps ease him into it. Cas moves surprisingly slowly, looking almost winded by the time he settles in the chair. Dean spares a glance at Jimmy, just to make sure he’s okay, but Jimmy waves him off. 

Clearly Cas is in worse shape than either of them.

“So you found Michael…?” Dean’s not sure if he wants to hear how it went, especially since he’s seen the aftermath of Cas getting forcibly blown back to this world. 

“Yes,” he confirms grimly. “I tracked him down, tried to reason with him though I knew full well it wouldn’t work… And then while he was distracted, I tried using a spell that would interfere with his grip on your world and force him back to this one.” 

“Did it work?”

Dean jumps a little when he hears Jimmy’s question, more because of how invested Jimmy sounds in the answer than anything else.

“Yes, or at least I sent him  _ somewhere _ . I definitely had the element of surprise. He thought I was trying to attack him, and so attacked me back.” Cas motions to the injuries on his face. “It’s the only reason I was able to have any effect on him at all. We’re equals in this realm, but there he certainly has the advantage of more practice. Casting the spell took a lot out of me, and it had the unexpected effect of rebounding on me and knocking me back as well.”

“Did you knocking him back here hurt him at all?” Jimmy demands with the same intent look in his eyes Dean recognizes from campaigns at Moondoor. 

… Maybe he should have brought Jimmy in on this a while ago.

“Doubtful,” Cas says wryly. 

“So you’re more hurt than Michael is?”

“I suspect so. In all honesty, I’m glad my spell was successful at all. The disruption should be enough to bind him to this plane for the time being, but he will likely be able to find a way through if we don’t act soon.”

“So we’ll call Balthazar and the others,” Dean says, then turns to Jimmy. “Cas has other mages who can take over while he recovers—”

“I will of course send word to them,” Cas interrupts, “but there’s no way I can fully entrust them with the task of stopping Michael. They are all very skilled in their own fields, but all of them together would stand little chance of defeating Michael. I  _ must _ be the one who confronts him.”

Panic chokes him for a moment, but then Dean all but shouts, “You can’t! You’re hurt! If Michael’s half as strong as you say, it’ll kill you to go against him when you’re not at full strength!”

Dean and Cas glare at each other. Dean silently dares Cas to contradict him; the fact that Cas remains stubbornly quiet says it all. 

Jimmy raises his hand like he’s in school. “I know I’m the new kid on the block,” he says, “but isn’t there anything  _ we _ can do? I know I’m only going off of fantasy novels, but if Michael and Dean have some sort of connection, couldn’t you somehow use that to weaken Michael? Hell, if you and I have some sort of ‘profound bond’ or whatever, couldn’t you take advantage of that to strengthen yourself?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dean says. “It’s not one of those weird video games you played as a kid—”

“Yes,” Cas says. “Theoretically, the magic exists. It’s old magic, barely practiced anymore except by the most skilled and quite frankly the most reckless magicians, but it’s entirely possible. Of course, it would require each of you to donate part of your life forces to me to bolster my magic and to in turn weaken Michael’s—”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says. “Let’s do that. Whatever it takes to make sure you stop Michael  _ and _ walk away at the end.”

“... I didn’t agree to that.” Both Cas and Dean turn to Jimmy. “What?” he asks defensively. “I get it, this is a big deal. Stop the bad guy, save the world, be the heroes… It just sounds super dangerous. No offense, Cas, but you’re a friggin’ stranger wearing my face and stealing my best friend. I don’t know how comfortable I feel ‘giving you part of my life force’ or whatever.”

“No offense taken, nor should you feel comfortable with the prospect. Soul magic is dangerous. It could easily kill all of us and take out half the town in the process.”

“But it’d stop Michael?” Dean presses. Admittedly, he only vaguely understands risks, but he  _ definitely _ gets the benefits.

Cas hestiates. “With that kind of power, yes, I could almost certainly stop him, but—”

“Then let’s do it,” Dean says. “You said we’re working on a time crunch, right? If we wait too long, Michael just disappears back to our world, you have to go chase him down again, and then what? You’re weaker now. If he knows you’re just gonna send him back, he’ll be prepared. This is our shot!”

Jimmy turns to Cas. “Is he right?” he asks quietly.

“His logic is sound,” Cas begrudgingly admits. “It’s a fair assessment of the situation. It does not make either path before us less dangerous, nor should you feel like there’s any pressure for you to contribute. Dean has a tie to Michael. If he were absolutely willing to proceed, then that might be enough power and magical resistance against Michael for me to stop him.”

“Might be,” Jimmy repeats before Dean gets the chance. “Dean, can you give me and Cas a couple minutes to talk?”

He wants to press his ear to the door. (Even though it’s probably warded against eavesdropping. Stupid paranoid mages.) He wants to hear every word they’re saying, see their faces, maybe run interference if Jimmy gets hostile or if Cas gets defensive. 

But he can’t, so he forces himself to take a few deep breaths and let it be. Cas and Jimmy are big boys, they can handle whatever they’re talking about without coming to blows.

… Though Dean’s pretty sure Jimmy will throw in a few veiled insults. Probably some not so veiled ones, too.

It doesn’t matter. Before Dean can go through too many worst case scenarios, the doors open and Cas strides out. He offers Dean a small smile, one that loses some of its soothing edge when Dean sees pain pulling his lips tight. Not that injured, Dean’s ass.

“We gotta get you cleaned up—”

“I’m fine,” Cas says with casual dismissal. “I’m going to go prepare for the ritual. Stay close.” He gives Dean a knowing smile before he turns and walks away.

If this were any other time Dean's been here, he would've followed Cas, but with Jimmy there, his priorities shift. No, more like they've split in two and he vacillates between them both.

_ How much trouble can Cas get into in his own house? _ he reasons before stepping back into the parlor.

“You said yes,” he says when he catches Jimmy's eye. 

Jimmy snorts and rolls his eyes. “What? You wanted me to be the selfish prick who stops you guys from saying the world? No thanks.”

There's more to it than that, but Dean's not sure how much to press right now, where the boundaries are as they struggle to figure things out Post Incident.

“What'd you guys talk about?” It's the only thing he can think to say, a plea for into but vague enough that Jimmy can choose how he answers.

“Everything. You, mostly, but probably not as much as you'd think.”

“Oh.” He licks his lips. His hands flex, a nervous twitch. “And?”

“I don’t like him,” Jimmy mutters under his breath. “Worse, I kinda  _ do _ like him. I feel like I couldn't justifiably hate him, but I don't have it in me, no matter how petty I try to be. Like, the only bad thing he’s done is be a good friend to you, and I’m not really in a position where someone can actually steal you away from me, y’know?”

“Cas is a good guy,” Dean says as gently as possible. “Trust me, I'm the only fuck up here.”

Jimmy groans and turns away. “You’re not a bad guy, Dean. You made a shitty decision and I’m kinda pissed you didn’t trust me enough to talk to me more, but I’ve known you as long as I can remember. Your good outweighs your bad.”

It’s too heavy of a moment. Him and Jimmy, this whole Michael deal, the yet unspoken thing with Cas… Dean can’t handle it, so he deflects the only way he knows how.

“You can’t remember before you were five?”

The comment does its job; Jimmy cracks a smile and gives Dean the finger. “Shut up, dick. And let’s be clear,  _ you _ were five,  _ I _ was four.”

“And a half.”

“Still four.”

“Still ridiculous that you can’t remember anything before that—”

Jimmy punches his shoulder. Dean grins widely as he punches Jimmy back. It’s about to escalate into a full on wrestling match by the time Cas returns.

“Am I interrupting something?” Cas’ deep voice resonates through the room and instantly has both Dean and Jimmy jumping apart like scolded school children. 

“Nothing that ain’t worth interrupting,” Dean mutters, though he’s not sure how true that is. He’s wrestled Jimmy plenty of times, but given how things have been going between them, maybe the ending would be a little more fun than usual. “You ready?”

Cas carries a large cauldron to the center of the room, kicks aside a table, and starts setting up. It’s only then that Dean notices the pieces of mirror have been cleaned up, no doubt by a simple wave of Cas’ hand and a expertly muttered spell.

And like that, within the span of two minutes, Dean once again finds himself drawn first to Jimmy, then to Cas. There’s no breaking the cycle, nothing to tip the scales from one to the other. It’s exhausting, and definitely not fair to either of them.

_ And thank god there’s the end of the world to worry about, or I’d be in even deeper shit than I am now… _

Dean and Jimmy both do as Cas directs as they set up the spell. The markings mean nothing, the crystals and other ingredients carry no significance to them, but Cas is meticulous in their placement and they do their best to be just as attentive to the task. It’s their lives, after all; some care is appreciated. 

When everything passes Cas’ inspection, he directs each of them to sit at one point of a triangle within arm’s reach of each other. 

“Here.” Cas hands them a glass of tea. “Drink this.”

“... You’re going to save the world through herbal tea?” Jimmy asks as he sniffs the concoction. Despite everything he’s heard and seen since coming here, he’s retained a healthy dose of skepticism. Like he fully expects this to be some elaborate prank that Dean’s managed to pull off, or some fevered dream that will crack at the seams from too much absurdity.

Honestly, it’s probably a good way to go. 

Cas gives him a look, one that’s as much scolding as it is amused. “It will put is in the right meditative state for the spell. Our minds not only to be freed from the shackles of our earthly vessels, but we need to be in a state that allows our souls to reach out to one another, to connect. This is draught should do that.”

Jimmy blinks and then stage whispers to Dean, “Dude, your boyfriend sounds like a total hippy pothead.”

Of all the things Jimmy’s said, this alone earns a faint blush on Cas’ face. Seeing Cas flounder makes Dean equally unable to answer, so he figures it’s as good a time as any to chug all his tea in one go. 

Castiel and Jimmy quickly follow suit, then join hands as Cas beckons. 

“Close your eyes,” Cas says, his voice and the tea doing their work to lull Dean into a restful state. “Relax. Focus your attention on your breathing, on the breathing of those around you. Our hearts beat as one. Our minds work towards one goal. Let our souls speak as one, let our desires and plans take fruition, together…”

Although Dean feels mellow, 

It’s only when he tries to open his eyes that he realizes anything unusual is happening. His eyes stay firmly rooted shut, but he sees. He sees Cas to his right, Jimmy to his left. He sees them not as men, barely even as people, but as glowing lights, faintly human-shaped. Even though it means nothing, isn’t a sight he’s used to seeing, he knows it’s them, their souls, laid bare for him. 

They’re beautiful.

Any similarity between their appearances is gone. They are distinct, they are utterly unique and brilliant. 

Then the world shifts. He no longer is Dean. He is Dean and he is Jimmy and he is Castiel and he is nobody. He is all combinations of the three of them, and he is nothing, lost in the tide and consumed by the enormity of the world.

In those brief moments he’s Jimmy, he senses nothing but possessive love for him, fierce and all consuming. It’s platonic, it’s romantic, it’s brotherly, it’s everything love can be, but reins are holding pieces of it in place. It would only take a word from Dean to unleash them, he thinks, but until that moment Jimmy keeps them bound. 

Then there’s Jimmy’s begrudging view of Cas. A good man, he’s forced to admit, someone who actually deserves Dean, but that it hurts to think of that possibility. Cas and Dean together, it’s like Jimmy could have been the one, but fell short in minor ways that he can’t help. Close but couldn’t be farther. There’s jealousy, painful and with an anger that’s more directed inward than outward, and underneath that, a barely formed sense of respect, admiration, and the potential for so much more. Those future feelings, they’re not fully shaped, and even in the whirlwind of Cas’ spell they’re mere silhouettes of what they could be, but it’s so blinding in intensity that Dean has no choice but to look away.

Instead he turns his inner eye to Cas. A mistake, since he’s no less overwhelmed by what he finds there. He feels Cas’ profound affection for Dean, even though he tries to keep it guarded and hidden. Cautious, all too aware of the precariousness of their current situation and reeling from what he might have had with Michael if Michael had been the man he’d claimed to be. 

When it comes to Jimmy, there’s puzzled delight in getting to meet him. There’s a twinge of jealousy here as well, but it doesn’t have the bitter edge of Jimmy’s; he envies their past and longs to share their future. There’s curiosity, an almost endless pit of need when it comes to Jimmy, to Dean, one that he longs to fill with their company, in any capacity. A loneliness that he’s sure they can ease if not erase. 

It’s such a pure sentiment, Dean’s blown away by it.

If Dean were more himself, he’d worry about what Cas and Jimmy were each seeing from him. What hidden thoughts and feelings and desires they’d managed to pick out from his consciousness. But he’s not himself. He’s all three of them, and he’s more than happy to share. 

Share. That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? He can share, bring Cas the two worlds at peace he longs for, open himself up to the love Jimmy’s waiting to bestow on him. He can share and give both Cas and Jimmy what they long for, what they  _ need _ from him, and he can accept what they in turn have to offer him. He can share and by sharing be complete.

Dean feels a piece of himself, some little bit of his essence, break off. It departs like a shuddered gasp, passes by Jimmy like a caress, then merges with Cas’ soul like it’s always belonged there. It winks back at Dean, happy with its new home, and Dean does his best to wink back.

He watches, astounded, as the same process happens with Jimmy; a piece breaks off, whispers a hello to Dean before joining Cas. Cas glows brighter still, power and love combining in a beautiful cascade of light and patterns. Dean watches as long as he can before it’s simply too much. He closes his inner eye, feels himself grounded in his body once more, and then gently falls backwards to the ground.

 


	11. Chapter 10

Dean dreams. For the life of him, he can’t remember a damn thing he dreams about, other than that Cas and Jimmy are always there with him. Happy, dark, mundane, he has no idea… but as he starts to drift back towards consciousness, he finds he doesn’t want to leave the twin smiles and identical blue eyes that have kept him company.

When he does blink into wakefulness, it takes him a moment to realize it. Those heavenly faces have followed him here, back to Cas’ parlor, and it’s probably a good minute before Dean figures that out.

“Did it work?” he asks immediately. He tries to jump to his feet, but a wave of vertigo overtakes him and he has to drop back down. 

Jimmy’s there to steady him, smiling gently. “Cas says it did. We’ll see, I guess. We’re not dead, so y’know, there’s that. Small miracles or whatever.”

“We are alive, for the moment,” Cas intones gravely. He doesn’t look much different than before, but there’s an aura about him, confidence or power or maybe just Dean’s wishful thinking. “If I’m at all wrong about how to beat Michael, we won’t be for long.”

“He always so cheerful?” Jimmy whispers as he helps Dean back to his feet. For a second there’s almost something fond in his expression, but that can’t be right. Magic seance be damned, no way Jimmy would change his mind  _ that _ quickly about  _ anyone _ . 

… Right?

“You okay?” 

There’s a soft squeeze to his shoulder, and Dean startles slightly at the touch. Shit, he’s a mess. 

“Yeah,” he assures Jimmy, though his smile feels a little too forced. “Peachy fucking keen.”

“Good. Because we’re apparently heading out to attack Michael in like an hour.”

“ _ We _ ?” Dean chokes. In his head, he’d always imagined Cas being the one to have the triumphant victory against Michael. Retribution, the completion of his hero’s journey to right the wrongs he’d unwittingly been apart of. It’d always been Cas, with maybe Dean cheering him on from the sidelines. 

And yeah,  _ sure _ , he’d thought about being there to help out back when Cas started teaching him magic. It’d be fun to play at saving the day, right? The attack with the hellhound, the aches still lingering along his chest, killed that fantasy. Dean might like playing at wizards and mages, but he clearly isn’t cut out for the life or death scenario Cas is about to face. 

He’s a liability. Jimmy’s a liability. There’s nothing either of them can do but get in the way. That was the whole point of this hocus pocus thing, to help Cas out in the only way they can.

“Michael’s at his old keep,” Cas says. “When I first led the charge against him, he hadn’t changed the wards to recognize me as an enemy. I doubt he’s so foolish that he hasn’t taken those precautions since then. I won’t be able to get in without alerting him to my presence and draining vast amounts of energy. It’s a waste of time and power.”

“Unless?” Jimmy prompts, smile wide like he knows the answer already.

“Unless of course I had someone with me whom the wards  _ would _ recognize as a friend. Then I could enter without any problem.”

“Someone who basically has the same soul as Michael would do the trick. We got anyone like that lying around?”

“No.” Jimmy looks baffled by Cas’ answer, but Cas’ eyes twinkles as he continues, “But only because Dean’s now standing.” 

“I  _ hate _ him,” Jimmy mutters under his breath, not an ounce of anger or annoyance in his tone. Weird… though Dean's not about to question his good fortune.

“Okay, I get why you need me.” Dean’s torn between being pleased to help and worried about getting caught in the crossfire. “But why’s Jimmy coming along? Isn’t that just putting him in danger for no reason?”

“Yes,” Cas agreed. “But he insisted.” Cas doesn’t exactly look happy about that, but apparently even he’s learned Jimmy’s too stubborn to argue with. 

_ Do  _ **_not_ ** _ think about the two of them having a battle of wills in bed, do  _ **_not_ ** _ think about it,  _ **_don’t do it_ ** _ —  _

Luckily Jimmy offers him a distraction.

“Whether I want to be involved or not, I am. I’m here, Cas has got a piece of my soul he’s fighting with, and if you’re going, like fuck I’m letting you go without me. You’ve been ditching me for months now, you don’t get to do it again.”

“This isn’t me deciding I’d rather go to a bar or the movies instead of hang out with you!” Dean loudly objects. “This is me trying to keep you  _ safe _ . To keep you from  _ dying _ !” 

“I know.” A strong, warm hand surrounds Dean’s and squeezes. “And this is me saying it’s my choice to make, and I’d rather be there by your side in case you need me instead of on the bench waiting to hear if you’re okay.” There’s an almost cocky grin spreading across Jimmy’s face, one that doesn’t quite match the open concern in his eyes. “And c’mon, you can’t have  _ all _ the fun.”

Dean wants to argue more. Wants to pull up his shirt and reveal the angry red lines across his chest and say it’s not fun at all to get attacked by one of those things. He wants to say  _ he’s _ at least had  _ some _ magical training and he was  _ still _ useless. 

He wants a lot of things, but ultimately, Jimmy’s right. It’s his decision, and it’d be pretty fucking hypocritical of Dean to take that from him.

“I’ll do my best to protect you both,” Cas says gently. “Once I’m inside, it’s unlikely I’ll need you to come further into the keep. I could even send you both back here, provided that—”

“No,” Jimmy and Dean say together. 

“Look, if you need backup, we’re there. We might not be good at the magic thing, but if you get hurt we can at least carry you.”

“Right,” Jimmy agrees. “What he said.”

Cas rolls his eyes but doesn’t object. He does mutter something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like  _ insufferable _ , but Dean’s willing to let that slide. It’s not like he’s wrong, after all. 

“Alright.” He claps his hands together and rubs them eagerly. “When do we head out?”

~ ~ ~

They’d sent word to all of Cas’ friends as quickly as they could, knowing it’s unlikely any of them would be able to get there in time. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Cas tells Dean for the millionth time. “If I can’t beat him now, on my own, we’ll never be able to beat him.”

“Still not reassuring,” he grits out. 

Cas opens his mouth to scold Dean but is interrupted by Jimmy’s self-conscious shuffle into the room. 

He’s pulling uncomfortably at the armor Cas gave him, trying to make it sit right. It’s Cas’, Dean recognizes it, but it doesn’t quite suit Jimmy. In the same armor, Cas looks badass and in control. Jimmy looks mildly constipated.

Add that to the list of subtle differences between the two.

“It doesn’t fit right, does it?” Jimmy mumbles under his breath, a frown making his own displeasure clear.

“It actually does,” Dean says, stepping into Jimmy’s space to double check. Granted, there are a few places where it’s a hair too tight or too loose, not a custom fit, but he doubts it’s enough to explain Jimmy’s discomfort. “Worried you got big boots to fill?” he teases.

Jimmy glares at him and wiggles away from his touch. “No. I’m worried because I’m wearing fucking  _ armor _ and about to go into  _ battle _ with a friggin’  _ wizard _ .”

“Fine, fine, I get it,” Dean soothes. He can’t quite help letting his hand come up to squeeze Jimmy by the back of the neck—the only sliver of skin available below his chin—and smiles. “But we’ll be fine, okay?”

Although he doesn’t look convinced, Jimmy doesn’t argue. He continues shifting awkwardly, but he goes to join Cas at the table. They have a layout of Michael’s keep spread out to help familiarize Dean and Jimmy with it, and so Cas can solidify his plan. 

Dean stays where he is for a moment to drink it in; he watches them together, his heart swelling. As silly as it is, he can’t quite help but be thankful Michael’s a dimension-jumping dickbag. If it weren’t for him, they’d never have met Cas and he and Jimmy would be stuck dancing around each other forever. 

Cas points to somewhere on the paper and Jimmy practically jumps a foot in the air at the sudden movement. Fuck, he’s nervous, and even Cas’ aura of calm isn’t doing much to help.

Dean can’t say he blames him. Sure, this is like LARPing, but the swords aren’t made of wood and the spells aren’t pretend. He’s terrified for all three of them, for both their worlds, and there’s no way this armor’s going to do much to stop the inevitable. They’re not even mages for fuck’s sake. Everything they know about fighting with swords, they taught themselves when they were kids playing around with lightsabers. 

And yet… and yet Dean has hope. Maybe it’s naive or incredibly foolish, but he can’t believe fate would be so cruel as to throw the three of them together only to rip them apart. 

_ You’ve seen one too many romcoms… Get your head in the game and don’t just  _ **_assume_ ** _ things will work out.  _ **_Make_ ** _ them work out. _

“We’ll arrive here,” Cas says when Dean wanders over. “I believe he’ll likely be here… There will be booby traps all through here, at least if he’s at all consistent with his usual habits—”

“Why would he be? Shouldn’t he be doing the opposite to throw you off?” Jimmy points out.

Cas shrugs. “Possibly. I assure you both, I will assume there is a trap around every corner, no matter how unlikely I think it is, but I can only operate with what I know. Not only is this how Michael functions, this is the most logical way to keep out unwanted guests.”

“He probably thinks you’re pretty weak right now, right?” Dean adds. “Maybe it’ll make him careless.”

“Being overly confident and prideful was always a shortcoming of Michael’s,” Cas confirms. “I don’t know if I’d call him  _ careless _ , but he is prone to underestimating people. It’ll likely work in our favor.”

“From your mouth to god’s ears,” Jimmy mutters, then adds, “Do you guys have a god here?”

“We actually—”

“Focus,” Dean says. “Michael. Saving our worlds. Time is off the essence. All that jazz.”

Cas blushes slightly, but then goes back to the plan. “I’ll corner him, confront him here and…”  _ Kill him. Bind him. Do something really unpleasant…  _ He leaves it up to their imaginations. “... and that should be it.”

Dean claps his hands together. His nerves are about shot, but he wants to get this over with. For better or worse, this ends today. “Well then, let’s get cracking.”

~ ~ ~

They arrive outside a keep not unlike the last one Dean saw. It’s built half into a mountain side, which is actually pretty cool. Or at least it would be if it weren’t owned by a crazy man trying to take over his world. 

Maybe it’s because Dean knows what to expect this time, but zapping across miles doesn’t make him more than a little nauseous. Jimmy practically blacks out, though manages to keep his lunch. 

“Are you ready?” Cas asks quietly when they’ve both recovered. Dean nods and Jimmy gives a half-hearted thumbs up. “Alright. Let’s see if the wards work.”

Dean takes the lead. His aura or soul or whatever should shield Jimmy and Cas, or at least in theory. Dean doesn’t understand the theory and he probably wouldn’t like the consequences if Cas is  _ wrong _ . Better to just keep walking, eyes in front of him, and hope the damn door opens.

There’s a slight tingling as he passes some invisible threshold. It ripples around him slightly, but no alarm blares and he’s not suddenly rooted to the spot. He takes that as a good sign and keeps walking, only glancing over his shoulder to make sure Cas and Jimmy are both there.

For a fraction of a second, their determined looks are so identical Dean actually can’t tell them apart. 

It’s weird. And he’s got a feeling they’re going to take advantage of it to fuck with him in the future.

They reach the door without an issue. It even swings open before Dean can even turn the doorknob. 

“Well that’s not creepy or ominous,” he mutters, but steps inside. Candles light up along the wall as he enters, lighting up the hallway in all directions. 

Cas pushes past Dean, a green flame in hand and ready to throw at the first sign of attack. “If the wards let us in, I should be able to handle it from here. You two should stay by the entrance. If something goes wrong, run. Michael likely has no interest in either of you, at least not in the short term.”

“You want us to just… just  _ stay _ !” Dean splutters. 

Jimmy nudges him in the side. “That’s fine, Cas. We’ll wait here.”

“What!?”

“Thank you, Jimmy. I’ll try to be back soon. If I take too long, do  _ not _ come looking for me, just go. I’m sure Balthazar or one of the others will find you.”

“Uh huh.” Jimmy smiles innocently even as he has to practically hold Dean back when Cas walks away. Not that Cas notices. No, he strides ahead with a quiet determination, like he doesn’t give a shit that he’s walking into hell alone.

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” Dean snarls at Jimmy once Cas is out of earshot. “How the fuck could you  _ do _ that?”

“Let him focus,” Jimmy says, grabbing a torch from the wall and following. “We know where he’s going and we know he’ll disarm all the traps. If we’re there, we’ll get in the way. If we stay out of sight, we 

“...  _ What _ ? You planned this?”

Jimmy winks at him. “Duh. Arguing with him wasn’t going to get us anyway, and like you keep saying, we gotta do this quickly. Let’s skip the argument that wastes time and just draws attention to us and instead…”

“... follow quietly,” Dean finishes. Huh. Not a bad idea. “You sure he’s gonna disarm the traps?”

“Your boy’s thorough. And smart. Probably assumes we’ll follow him sooner or later. Trust me, we’ll be fine.”

The part of Dean that questions Jimmy’s logic (he’s only known Cas for like a day, how could he be so damn sure?) is quickly overruled by Dean’s  _ need _ to see this through. He  _ has _ to see what happens,  _ has _ to see what happens to Cas,  _ has _ to see Michael in person. 

It doesn’t take much for him to be storming off down the hallway. “Let’s go.”

Following Cas is surprisingly easy. Jimmy remembers the path Cas laid out as the most likely one, and somehow the path feels warmer where Cas has been. Like the traps lurking out of sight are chilling the air, but Cas came through like a warm breeze and cleaned them out.

It’s kind of like Cas really did expect them to follow him, which almost makes Dean chuckle. It hasn’t been that long, but Cas knows him so well already.

Jimmy, too, he supposes. 

The air suddenly goes cold outside a large set of double doors. There are intricate carvings displaying what Dean can only assume is this world’s version of hell: flames and dozens of figures surrounded by torture devices, their faces contorted in screams of agony, and above them all, a figure with wings and sapphire studded eyes and a delighted smile. The eyes seem to follow them as they move, and it makes Dean shudder. He’s going to have nightmares about this place.

“This Michael guy’s a real creep,” Jimmy mutters as the two of them get into position. The doors don’t budge at first, but after they start moving it’s easy to make an opening large enough for them both. 

And what Dean hears makes his blood turn to ice.

“I don’t know why you think this time will work out in your favor when it didn’t the last time.” It’s Dean’s voice, he recognizes that, but  _ wrong _ . So devoid of everything he would consider  _ him _ . Y’know, things like  _ emotion _ . “You weren’t strong enough in that other world, you’ve  _ never _ been strong enough in this one… I don’t know how you expect things to go.”

Jimmy’s hand is on his shoulder, trying to keep him back, but Dean can’t help but poke his head around the door. Neither Cas nor Michael notice him, and his vantage point gives Dean a clear view of Michael.

It’s… it’s eerie, to say the least. That’s him over there, as much as it’s Jimmy. If they didn’t move, if he didn’t look too closely, it could be them dressed up for a weekend in Moondoor. But as soon as the moved, even blinked, it was obviously not them. Dean doesn’t think he’s  _ ever _ worn such a hateful expression in his life, treated anyone with the disdain he’s treating Cas right now.

“Now you know how I feel,” Jimmy whispers. Dean blinks and sees Jimmy eyeing him worriedly.

“Not the same,” he said, offering a half smile that he hoped reassured him. “Cas isn’t an asshole.”

Jimmy snorts. “Point taken.”

“You were always too arrogant for your own good,” Cas says. His voice fills the room, booming even in the large space. It’s filled with authority, confidence, in way that demands attention. “For the sake of the friendship we once had, I’ll ask you once to stand down and surrender. Otherwise, I cannot be held responsible for what happens to you.”

The answering laugh makes Dean’s skin crawl. “Please, Castiel. You and I both know you’re bluffing—”

A crackle fills the air and the room flashes as Castiel throws a fireball at Michael. Michael’s hands move quickly, a faint barrier coming up to absorb the attack. 

Even so, Michael’s clothes look singed.

“Lucky shot,” Michael sneers. 

The air is electric as the two throw spell after spell. Smoke chokes Dean, makes him want to close the door and let the dust settle before going in, but his fear for Cas keeps him rooted to the spot. The only thing he’s aware of beyond the fight is Jimmy’s hand in his, the two of them squeezing tightly.

It isn’t until Cas lands a lightning blast to Michael’s shoulder that the energy changes. Michael’s eyes grow red and he snarls. 

“You’re pathetic!” he yells at Cas. “Pathetic, ordinary,  _ weak _ . I knew you were too  _ small _ to see what I’m doing.”

Dean’s eyes are glued to Cas as he starts to glow, his eyes shining blue to match the red of Michael’s. There’s a pull in Dean’s chest, a warmth spreading outward towards Cas.

He’s using their energy.

Cas strides confidently towards Michael. Michael attacks again and again, all of his spells easily cast aside or absorbed by the blue aura around Cas. It isn’t until Cas is an arm’s length away that Michael’s face morphs from anger to fear. 

“Castiel— Don’t—”

“I warned you.” Cas reaches out, his hand placed squarely on Michael’s forehead. “I think you and I both know I didn’t want things to turn out this way.” 

“DON’T—!”

“Too late. I’m sorry, Michael.”

There’s a pause followed by a scream. Michael writhes, trying to escape Cas’ grasp, as a bright  light bursts out of his eyes. Dean should turn away—why would he want to see himself die?—but he can’t. The light gets brighter and brighter, so bright that finally Dean has no choice. He closes his eyes and covers his ears.

When it’s over, his ears ring slightly. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust in the fading light, but he gets a clear view of Michael. 

There’s nothing left of his eyes but burnt out sockets, his mouth still open in a silent scream. When Cas removes his hand, he drops to the ground like a ton of bricks. Dean watches, holding his breath, until he’s sure Michael’s not breathing. 

“Did we do it?” Jimmy asks. “For real?”

“I uh… I guess—?”

Their attention turns to Cas, who stumbles as he tries to take a step.

“Cas!” Dean yells and rushes forward. He can hear Jimmy behind him and they reach Cas just before he falls to the ground. “Cas, buddy, you alright?”

“Tired. I’ll be fine.” His words slur but he seems to believe them. “Knew you fools would follow me.”

“Uh huh, we’re stubborn idiots,” Jimmy agrees. He shoulders Cas’ weight and motions for Dean to do the same. “You can tell us off when we get you out of here.”

“Yes. Good idea.” Then Cas smiles gently first at Jimmy, then Dean. “We did it. Thank you.”

Dean can’t help it. He leans in and kisses Cas, wet and sloppy, then pulls Jimmy in for an equally messy kiss. 

“Thank fuck you’re both okay.”

Cas hums in agreement. “Let’s go home.”

Home. 

Dean likes the sound of that.


	12. Epilogue

After carefully swirling the spoon in the tea to get as much of the honey as possible, Dean taps the it on the side of the cup. He’s not particularly into tea, but Cas loves the stuff and Jimmy’s developed a taste for it. If indulging his two favorite people means occasionally burning his tongue, then hey, it’s a risk he’s willing to take. 

The idea of a burned tongue being any great risk at all makes him laugh so hard, he nearly knocks over the porcelain glasses on the tray, but he carefully steadies it before taking it out to the parlor.

_ What the hell kind of life is this, _ he jokes to himself.  _ Taking  _ **_tea_ ** _ to the  _ **_parlor_ ** _ where my  _ **_boyfriends_ ** _ are busy arguing over whose turn it is to pick a damn book to read… _

It’s definitely nothing like the life he’d once imagined for himself. He’d had big plans, for school, for work, for everything. None of those plans included anything about a parallel world, let alone Cas. He’d never even managed to fit a relationship with Jimmy into his plans, so really, what the hell did he know?

He and Jimmy, after some soul searching, had decided to stay in Cas’ world semi-permanently. Dean’s not necessarily a fugitive back home in his own world, but everything Michael did while pretending to be him definitely burned some bridges and ruined a lot of things… including Dean’s academic career. The idea of starting from scratch at another school or in a different field, it was too much. It’d caused him enough anxiety that Jimmy had made him actually consider the possibility of  _ not _ going back to school.

_ “I don’t understand. What would I do for a job if I didn’t finish school?” _

Dean distinctly remembers the unamused bitch face Jimmy had shot his way and the sweeping gesture he’d made in Cas’ direction.  _ “I’ll give you three guesses, but the first two don’t count.” _

Honestly, it’d been an easy choice when Cas was brought into consideration. Dean liked what he was studying, but it wasn’t the passion he’d once thought it was. Architecture’s something he loves, but studying it academically killed some of the joy. He’d rather tour big cities with Jimmy or the towns in Cas’ world and just take it in instead of stuffing his head full of math and principles.

Once he started actually analyzing his life, he realized so much of it was filled with things he was doing because he thought he  _ had _ to, because it was part of a plan he’d made years ago and hadn’t reconsidered to make sure it still fit him. When he asked himself if he was happy, he’d actually had to qualify that, “Yes, I’m happy when I’m with my friends and family and I try to be with them as much as possible,” which made it very obvious that he was fucking miserable the rest of the time. 

There’d been part of him that worried Cas wouldn’t really want him and Jimmy around. Or that Jimmy would get fed up or bored and move back to their world. He’s slowly starting to realize any and all fears relating to Cas and Jimmy were unfounded. The two, once they put aside the weirdness of their connection and any jealous regarding Dean, actually got along really well. 

It took weeks of planning and slow transitioning to move their lives here. A few more weeks to settle in and for Dean to admit that he likes his life here better than he ever did his life back there. He’d always complained about being normal and ordinary, and now he isn’t. 

He’s a mage in training. It’s going slowly, but Dean loves every second of it. Even when he singes his eyebrows or melts random pieces of furniture.

Jimmy, it turns out, isn’t very magically inclined. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to care much about, as he puts it, “not having a career as a Harry Potter extra.” Instead he helps Cas manages his estates, because apparently Cas isn’t good with numbers but Jimmy was trying to be an accountant for fuck’s sake, he’s  _ great _ with numbers. 

There are obviously things he misses—the Impala, movies, that one bakery’s apple pie—but they turned out to be easy to give up. What was harder to lose were the people… and that actually had an easy solution.  

Cas has a new mirror set up in his living room. He can open a portal at any time, allowing people from Dean’s world to travel back and forth. Sam, Benny, and Charlie are all frequent visitors (and damn if Dean didn’t love seeing their faces when they’d first stepped disbelieving through the mirror). Hell, even Dean and Jimmy make it back pretty often for LARPing, sporting  _ the _ most authentic clothes and weapons at the whole tournament. 

Sometimes, Cas goes in Jimmy’s place and it’s hilarious seeing how weirded out by that. 

Dean backs his way into the parlor, mindful of the tea. As predicted, Cas and Jimmy are arguing over some book Cas had recommended. Jimmy’s always been one to complain just for the hell of it, and he enjoys finding faults with the characters, the plot, the setting… and Cas indulges the argument with a completely straight faced rebuttal.

Damn if Dean doesn’t love those two.

It’s weird, Dean’s gotta admit. The two of them get along really well. Not quite like the twins they appear to be, but definitely like good friends. 

And lately, Dean’s seen the lingering glances. Heard each of them confess things to him in hurried whispers at night. “Good friends” won’t last long; the scales will slowly tip to something more.

On dean’s part… well, it took a while to find the balance between both of them. He loves them both so fiercely, but so differently. It’s overwhelming, and it’s hard to make room in his head for one sometimes if the other’s right there in front of him. As they settle into things, living with Cas here, it gets easier. 

Time. The three of them still need time. But thanks to beating Michael, they actually  _ have _ it. Dean’s stopped viewing the three of them as an “if” and more as a “when.”

**_When_ ** _ it’s all three of us, I won’t have to hop between beds each night, _ he jokes privately to himself.

It’s definitely a strange life he’s found himself in, but he can’t say he doesn’t like it or that he’d trade it in for how things were. Because if there’s one thing his life isn’t anymore, it’s boring.


End file.
